


Sunlight

by whataterrorificmess



Series: Sunlight [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, HAS SLIGHT BOOK SPOILERS, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, an incident with dubious consent, an instance with Francis's second sight being abused badly, lots of flashbacks, mentions and graphic descriptions of cannibalism, mentions of character death A LOT of it, supernatural planes of existance, very PTSD Jopson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-07-09 13:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19888900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataterrorificmess/pseuds/whataterrorificmess
Summary: In the last camp Francis had found one survivor, said survivor having had done terrible awful things to survive so long. Now even when they have returned to England, the horrors that plague his former steward are still so fresh.In other words, I had Edward drag Jopson with him to the last camp trying to keep them both alive and Francis learns the horrific things that transpired within the camp as Jopson learns to cope and recover from the horrors in the arctic and to grieve without the man who loved him.This is a story about the long lasting effects of a traumatic journey and the struggle to find meaning in life again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Out of all my fics this one is my favourite project I have written this story with a lot of emotion put into it and I hope that shows.
> 
> This is a story that is meant to be a tear jerker. It IS VERY sad and it has been intended to be so. It is a story that centers around a lot of mental and emotional instability of characters after enduring horrible experiences, conditions, and unyielding grief. It contains a lot of depictions of grief from a broken heart, guilt, shame, and a bit of self-loathing. 
> 
> It is meant to show the process healing and the struggles to do so. Of learning to find love again after the ones lost before, and the emotional crisis that goes with it. 
> 
> There will be a lot of flashbacks in this story that show how we ended up here from the start. There will also be graphic descriptions of violence, sex, and cannibalism.

* * *

**~ July 13th, 1851**

* * *

Francis looked across the dining hall where he could see his friend sitting in the seat before the large window.

His eyes were closed as he sat allowing the sun to rest upon his young face.

It hadn’t yet been a year since their return to England and still, young Jopson remained in the process of healing from the horrors endured on that expedition.

The young man was broken both physically and mentally.

How the lad had survived so long by himself, body riddled with scurvy was beyond him.

* * *

**~ Two Years Ago: October 28nd, 1848 ~**

* * *

_As he and Lady Silence made their way through this horrible camp. He was not expecting to find any survivors._

_He could see the men had gone mad, eating each other in far worse horrendous fashion than that of Hickey’s group had._

_Everything stood still however as soon as he entered the last tent._

_There were two men in here, one covered with a blanket and the other sitting with his back against the tent beside a large pile of blankets._

_Slowly he knelt before the man slumped against the tent and lifted his head._

_What he saw chilled him to the bones._

_Dark brown hair and a full beard that wisped over the top of a collar, covered in frost and icicles. Blue tinted skin and purple lips parted ever so slightly. Golden chains from pocket watches had been pierced into his face and dangled there as the arctic wind moved them._

_He realized with absolute horror that the man he was staring at was Lieutenant Edward Little._

_Dead._

_Beside the lieutenant he saw the pile of blankets shift almost as if being made to pull up tighter and from beneath them, he could hear a ripping noise and his brow furrowed._

_He took a deep breath and pulled the edge of the dark fabric back away revealing a trembling form._

_**‘Oh my fucking Christ….’** _

_As he’d expected there was a man hidden beneath the layered cover._

_Shoulder length black hair, facial hair, and watering pale eyes that-_

_No._

_This was not… it couldn’t be Jopson._

_His clothes were in tatters as they hung loosely from his thin frame. Black hair at shoulder length and was snarled all to hell. Blood surrounded his mouth where he gnawed on something between poorly kept teeth and in his trembling red-covered hands, which were missing a few digits, he could see a piece of meat that could only have come from this camp._

_The whittled body trembled violently as it was exposed to the frigid arctic air and he saw those pale eyes watering copiously as he squinted, trying to see the source of his disturbance, clearly he was having trouble seeing through obvious signs of snow blindness._

_“Jopson.” he uttered out in a hushed whisper._

_At the sound of his voice the ‘food’ between the young man’s teeth dropped to the shale in red stringy ligaments._

_“C-Captain…?” he whispered his voice so hoarse and damaged from the elements._

_He knelt down placing his remaining hand upon his pale face causing the man to flinch violently as his mitten touched it's wind cracked surface._

_“Oh Thomas...” he croaked tears gathering in his eyes._

_The young man’s eyes were roving and he wavered slightly in his crouched form. He looked as if he might faint. Faint. Hopefully not die._

_“Steady lad...” he whispered getting ready to reach for him if he needed to._

_The shock of it all sent the younger man face first into his chest when he fainted._

* * *

**~ Present ~**

* * *

Apparently the others had left the sick behind, Jopson included. Edward had gone back a day later on a guilty conscious and bodily carried the young man all those miles back to the current camp the men were located.

After that things went downhill very quickly.

Most of the men tried not to participate in the carnage that ensued, but after so many days of no food they couldn’t resist any more.

Edward kept them both alive by hoarding any plant life that was to be found in the area. Jopson said on rare occasions a flowering plant could be found that after consumed it seemed to stall the effects of his illness for a while.

Lady Silence had brought them both with her to her people, where they were well taken care of.

Poor Thomas had cried for days. He’d cried so much that he had been bedridden from dehydration and exhaustion.

The survivor’s guilt was eating him alive inside and the awful things the young man had to do just to stay alive made it all the worse.

No matter how many times he told Thomas he didn’t think any less of him, the young man didn’t believe it.

Jopson ended up losing three toes and four fingers to frostbite but his hands were never the same, there were days where he would be in intense agony and then days he was not. The doctors believed he’d suffered nerve damage.

Though despite his impairments, Crozier knew that nothing was hurting the young man as much as his broken heart. The lad missed Edward greatly and he was lost without his lover.

Yes. His lover. Jopson had told him how the two of them had become involved shortly after the death of Sir John.

At this point nothing surprised him.

He should have known it would be James Ross who would find them.

Francis knew, if it had just been him, he would have chosen to stay with the native people rather than return home.

This wasn’t the case though, he had Jopson with him and life on the ice with the natives was very hard for the younger man. He tried to teach him the native tongue as best he could but with the lad’s spirit broken as it was… it had been difficult. He also knew that his lieutenant still had family left that he could return to or at the very least they deserved to know he was alive.

* * *

**~ September 8th, 1850 ~**

* * *

_“You can stop staring at me James.” he gruffed with a small smile._

_He’d felt the younger captain’s gaze on him for several minutes now._

_Ross smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry old friend. I just feel like I will wake up at any second. It is good to see you and Mr Jopson alive and well.”_

_When Francis’s expression fell at the words, Sir John Clark Ross felt like an idiot._

_He knew Francis was deeply concerned for his former steward._

_Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall hearing the younger man speak even once since they had boarded his ship two weeks ago._

_Turning back to Francis he noticed the man staring longingly through the open cabin door where Jopson was sleeping._

_He followed his gaze studying the frail looking man as he lay in the bunk._

_“You both have been here for about two weeks, and I don’t recall him being so quiet in the Antarctic.” he commented._

_Francis nodded not taking his gaze off the young face._

_“Aye, he doesn’t speak much anymore. Sometimes I find myself forgetting what his voice sounds like.”_

_James frowned, "_ _Is he able? He didn’t suffer an injury, I hope?”_

_Francis shook his head before acknowledging him with a weary gaze._

_“Yes. Yes he’s more than capable James. He just doesn’t want to do so. Every once in a blue moon he’ll say a few words, but then he goes silent again.”_

_“What on Earth for?” the knighted man asked quite bewildered._

_He shook his head with an exhausted sigh. “Of that, I do not know James. He’s been like this since I found him.”_

* * *

_As Francis entered the bed cabin he was sharing with Jopson he found the lad sitting at the fold out table a mirror in one hand while he held a long coal colored lock of hair between two of his remaining fingers on the other._

_Seeing this sparked an idea in his head and he retrieved the shaving kit that had been supplied to him by James._

_It had been hard at first, learning how to shave one handed but he’d gotten pretty good at it._

_He set the kit down on the stand beside the bed and walked over to where Jopson sat, gaze not tearing away from his hair._

_Carefully he knelt beside the chair and pulled his hand slowly away from the greasy locks. He held the smaller hand tenderly in his own, finally Thomas turned his face to him in questioning._

_“How about we get that wild scruff off you lad, hm? Cut your hair?”_

_Jopson’s bottom lip trembled momentarily before he looked down in shame._

_“T-That... that’s my job….”_

_The words were spoken so softly he almost hadn’t heard them._

_“Aye, it was. How about you let me repay you for all the perfect shaves you gave me?”_

_He said nothing but he did nod ever so slightly._

_Crozier was relieved. Finally he got some sort of response from the lad._

_It took a few moments to get everything set up but soon he was sitting in front of his lieutenant spreading the soap over his unkempt face before he got to work._

_As he sat there he could see those pale eyes looking down with nothing but shame and guilt._

_“Thomas. What’s eating at you so awfully lad? You have hardly spoken to me since we boarded this ship.”_

_The silence stretched for what seemed like eons but finally he got some sort of response._

_“Edward… I… I ate… part of his arm….”_

_Francis was taken aback by the morbid confession and he had to compose himself to keep his hand from shaking._

_He had to clear his throat just to be able to respond._

_“It’s alright son. You did what you had to-”_

_“No!” Jopson yelled, his voice crackling from months of unuse._

_The outburst made the captain lift the blade in a surprised pause, that was the most life he’d heard in the lad’s voice since before Hickey’s group took him captive._

_Tears started streaming heavily down Thomas’s face._

_“No Sir! Before him it was Lieutenant Le Vesconte… and before him John Weekes… Edward… I-I loved him… I loved him and… and I ate off of him!”_

_His lieutenant pushed his hand holding the razor to the side and Francis was surprised to feel two long bony arms wrap around him as he sat and the young man’s face pressing into his coat where he sobbed brokenly._

_Quietly he set the razor aside despite his job being half done and returned the embrace whispering softly reassurances into his ear._

_“He… He asked me…. Asked me to marry him when we returned home… to put Navy life behind us.”_

_The information surprised him, he hadn’t even known the two men had been together._

_Regardless he tightened his embrace letting his chin rest on top of Jopson’s greasy locks._

_“He loved me! He loved me Captain and I ate him!” the younger man wailed._

_There was so much pain in his broken voice, a despair that could never be stripped from his young soul, and this is what broke the Irishman's heart more than anything._

_“Jopson. You knew Edward better than most, that means you know lad, you know in your heart that he would have wanted you to live. You know this Thomas.”_

_“I-I don’t want to go home Sir! I can’t face them… my family… I-I can’t face them after what I have done… they’d think of me a vile person… just as I do.”_

_Crozier shook his head and pulled the younger man back at arm's length._

_“Thomas. You are not any less of a man than you were before this voyage. You did what you had to.”_

_Jopson went quiet after hearing this settling back into his chair._

_Francis took this as an opportunity to continue the man’s shave and started to work on the left side still yet untouched._

_“They had left me behind Sir...”_

_Crozier looked up at him not quite understanding._

_“The sick Sir, they left us behind.”_

_The captain clenched his teeth momentarily, he knew Le Vesconte must have ordered it but he also couldn’t blame him._

_“Edward had tried to protest but they didn’t listen. I… I laid there in the tent for almost two days before he came back for me… he told me what had happened… I hadn’t known… I thought…”_

_Jopson’s eyes welled with tears again and he looked up at him miserably._

_Blue eyes met pale ones and Francis could see all that soul shattering pain shining in Jopson’s beautiful eyes._

_“… I had thought you’d left me, Sir. I’d… I’d called for you for a long time...” he whimpered softly._

* * *

**~ Present ~**

* * *

In the aftermath of the voyage it was clear that both of their Navy lives had to cease. Jopson was such a mess when they had returned that they almost wanted to throw him into the loony bin.

He fought like hell against that and eventually things calmed down.

As for the boy’s family, that was another sad story.

Jopson had reunited with them for a short time, he stayed with one of his sisters for about a month and then he ended up here with him.

The boy had sent a telegram that begged him for help and that he couldn’t stand to be around his own family because he felt like a burden

After several telegrams that was when Francis finally gave in and moved the young man in with him.

He was not as bad as he used to be, but his spirit was still in ribbons, subjected to certain days of the week where he’d stay in his room all day and hide from the world.

However, then there were days he’d smile gratefully and they’d talk for hours.

Those were the days that Francis cherished the most and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

As he continued to watch the young man sun himself quietly in the window a smile graced his features.

Maybe, just maybe everything would be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glance into the events that lead up to the rescue

* * *

**August 20th, 1848**

* * *

They were leaving him behind!?

Why!?!

Had he done something wrong to displease the captain?

As he crawled out of the tent, he could see the sledge party getting farther and farther away.

“C-Captain…!” he tried to call ashamed by how weak and small his own voice came.

He dragged himself forward on his shaking arms, his hands clutching at handfuls of shale each time.

“C-Captain…. Cap-...tain!”

The men kept moving forward not looking back even once.

’Edward… where’s Edward he wouldn’t leave me… he loves me….’ he thought tearfully.

As he squinted he tried to study the men’s figures from afar and horror hit him hard when he thought he could vaguely make out Edward’s retreating back dragging behind them.

Immense hurt flooded his senses and he somehow managed to get to his hands and knees, and then his feet. His legs quivered as they tried to support his weight.

“E-Edward!” he choked out tears running hot down his face and his sobs sending pain through his whole body.

He watched as his lover’s stride started to lag behind the others until he stopped completely glancing over his shoulder at him.

“P-Please! D-Don’t leave me here!” he cried trying to stagger forward only for his knees to buckle as soon as he took a step.

Thomas watched as Edward turned his body to face his direction and he thought maybe he’d come to him, but one of the other men came to coax him the other way.

“E-Edward...” he rasped voice crackling from exhaustion.

He cried softly watching him continue to depart without him.

“No… please… I-I love you… Edward… E-Edward come back!” he sobbed letting his belly settle again upon the shale as a wave of nausea hit him hard.

He could feel himself dry heaving violently the obscene noise making him even more nauseous as nothing came up.

The captain promised! Why was he leaving him behind!? He said he wouldn’t!

A wave of exhaustion coursed through him and his head throbbed with an agonizing pulsation of fire.

His vision started to blur and he choked back another sob as he laid his head down to rest on his arms in front of him.

* * *

“A-Anyone… is… is anyone there...?”

That faint rasping of a voice was what awoke him.

His body shuddered violently as he came back to consciousness, unbearable cold that Jopson was sure had literally seeped into his veins and now ran through his blood shook him hard.

“Someone…. Please...”

That voice again it was coming from the tent next to the one he had been in.

It took several tries for him to get to his hands and knees his body quivering so violently that it threatened to take his arms out from beneath him as he made his way toward the tent inch by painstaking inch.

He was so cold.

Noticing the Goldner tins that had been left behind in a cruel offering of mercy he grabbed them with a glare of disdain and tossed them through the open tent flap where he heard them land with a ‘thunk’ before he crawled into the shelter.

It was William Wentzell, his eyes were red and watery as he tried to sit up.

Jopson made his way over to the man slumping pitifully against him for a second before he was able to lift himself weakly into a sitting position with his back braced against the side of the canvas.

“I-I’m here...” he croaked between his shivers with a bit of effort.

The man’s dark eyes stared at him in horror, he must look a sight.

“L-Lieutenant Jopson…?”

He offered a weak smile his chapped lips trembling as he did so making it look more of a grimace.

“At…. At ease sailor...”

“Sir…,” the man was interrupted by a hacking coughing fit that sent flecks of blood flying upon his nightshirt.

Thomas let his pale hand rest in the young man’s hair stroking it comfortingly while he let the coughing fit pass. He looked over to the other man in the tent and his heart dropped when he realized the man was dead his eyes still open as he stared up at the tent’s surface.

“... that’s what I wanted to… to tell you Sir… Mr Couch has….” Wentzell trailed off tears gathering in his eyes.

He nodded quietly not saying anything as he tried to think about what he was going to do.

“W-Where is everyone Sir?” the man asked after a few seconds of silence.

Jopson swallowed thickly and he looked down toward the shale, he felt a few tears drip off his face.

William’s eyes widened in horror and he shook his head slightly in disbelief. “T-They didn’t….”

He nodded his body still trembling violently and the young man watched him with sad eyes.

“S-Sir… I-I think… I think m-my clothes m-might... might fit you…”

Thomas looked at him in astonishment, “I-I’m not taking you belongings from y-”

Mr Wentzell smiled at him, “N-No Sir, I’d… I’d surely hope not… j-just so y-you can go get your things.. y-you can’t go out… out there… dressed like that…”

His blood ran cold he should probably check on the other sick men maybe some of them were still alive too?

* * *

There were no other men. It was just them.

Thomas could tell the young man was worse off then he was despite his own weakness. He was a grown man for Christ's sake and despite this it had taken him several minutes just to drag the blankets from the other two tents to Mr Wentzell’s.

Jopson had at this point decided that if he were to die here which was more than probable… he would die doing what he did best and that was taking care of someone.

The very least he could do is enjoy the company in case he were to be left alone should the man die in his care.

Which is how he now found himself sleeping beside the young man now he’d piled all blankets on top of the two of them.

“A-Are… you hungry?”

Mr Wentzell rasped out a laugh that sent him into a small coughing fit.

“I-If I may.. Sir, when isn’t any… one hungry t-these days?” the man croaked softly.

Thomas offered him a small grin and nodded, grabbing one of the Goldner cans he quickly realized he didn’t have anything to open it with.

“Oh.”

“H-Here Sir… th-there should be a bowie knife be..side those books next you.”

The lieutenant took a glance around and was relieved when the man’s word rang true.

He swallowed thickly, he remembered Doctor Goodsir’s words about eating the canned food uncooked. It could make them really sick.

Pale eyes lowered in thought and it was Mr Wentzell who finally snapped him from them. “I-It’s better than nothing, S-Si-”

“Please… William… call me Thomas. It’s… just us.” he said softly.

“Just Will… T-Thomas… it is all we have...” the man uttered the words his breathing rattled his chest loudly and he suddenly leaned onto his side coughing up blood.

Jopson moved quickly placing as shaky hand on his shoulder to keep him from rolling onto his back again while he coughed out the crimson liquid that he noticed was almost blackish it was so dark.

“E-Easy… deep… deep breaths...”

The other man let out a miserable moan followed by a small sob his shoulders trembled violently beneath his mitten clad hands. His body was sweating profusely and his skin was so pale Jopson wondered if he had any blood in his body at all.

Then again clearly he must because he kept choking it all up onto the blankets.

How could Captain Crozier leave them behind?

The man had promised he wouldn’t do such a thing, vehemently denying the mere idea of it.

After all the time the two of them had spent working together he thought he’d meant something to the older man… why… why would he do this to him?

How could Edward leave them behind? Especially him.

Were all those words… just words? Did they mean nothing? They meant something to him. Didn’t they the same to Edward?

It wasn’t long until William’s coughing had stopped and he lay back panting exhausted.

The lieutenant nodded as he eased him back onto the blankets and pried the can open.

“Can you hold the utensils Will?” Thomas asked.

The other man looked away guiltily, ashamed even, and Jopson offered a reassuring smile.

“I-I was the captain’s steward Will… there… there is no shame if you cannot..”

* * *

William Wentzell died in the middle of the night and Jopson was filled with despair.

He was alone. In this godforsaken place surrounded by corpses as he awaited to become one of them.

The betrayal of their Captain and his lover was smothering.

How could they leave him here to die? He had every right to live just as they did.

Thomas just wanted to scream, he wanted to cry until he couldn’t cry any more, he wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare that was his reality.

Yet he could do none of these things. He felt numb and not in a way caused by the cold.

Speaking of the cold, he had to admit it hadn’t been bothering him all that much since he had cocooned himself in roughly twenty blankets while still fully clothed. It was still cold, of course, but not as unbearable as it had been his shivers had stopped at least.

It was probably very late at night when Mr Wentzell had passed the only reason he’d noticed is because the man was no longer producing body heat and instead had started to chill him. He’d vomited the food he’d shared with the man the previous night in response to opening up his eyes to find the lifeless brown pools staring at him in an empty death reading gaze.

It was early morning now the summer sun was just starting to peak over the horizon.

* * *

Edward couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his face as he made his way towards the tents they had left behind with their sick.

He didn’t see Thomas lying dead outside.. that was a good thing right?

_‘Edward Little you are a horrible man.’_

As he ducked into the tent Thomas had been in his blood ran cold.

Where was Thomas!?

Panic setting in rather quickly he searched the tent realizing with gut churning horror that Jopson’s things were gone too.

_‘He didn’t actually try to follow...’_

Quickly he made his way to check the remaining tents.

_`Thomas is smart… but he’d… probably try to help others...’_

As soon as the thought passed through his head a series of coughing earned his attention.

_‘Thomas?’_

It came from the last tent it had… um… someone and he thought he could recall one of the marines.

Edward approached with brisk strides ducking underneath the tent flap and shaking the ice from his hair and beard. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the tent but when they finally did he felt his heart stop.

Jopson was lying on the ground beside one of the dead seamen. He was wrapped in many layers of blankets and he was sweating copiously. His lips were parted the slightest bit and Edward could see small puffs of white emitting from them as he breathed.

Silently he knelt beside him observing his fitful slumber for several minutes as he tried to think of what he was to say to the man he’d left behind to die.

_‘Edward Little you are a horrible man.’_

He took a deep breath and reached out a trembling hand running it through his love’s dark hair.

The man moaned softly his face turned in his direction before pale eyes opened.

Edward placed a mitten clad hand against his sweaty cheek. “Thomas.”

“E-Edward…?”

His love’s broken voice was enough to reduce him to tears and he leaned forward and gathered his bundled form into his arms.

“Y-Yes. Yes Tom… I-I’m here.”

Jopson's arms pushed angrily against his chest, his hands attempting to land blows against him but they felt like nothing to Edward, soon the younger man was sobbing.

“Y-You left me!” he shrieked his outrage only to send himself into a coughing fit.

“Thomas calm down please! You’ll make yourself sick!”

Edward choked on a sob as he grabbed Thomas’s hand when a slap came flying towards his face. He held the frail looking wrist in one hand using the other arm to balance the poor man’s weight.

“H-How dare you! I-I thought… you loved me...”

The words stung him more than any others had in his lifetime.

Hot tears poured freely down his face as he tried to shush the younger man who fought against his hands, he forced the words out between the heavy emotional sobs that shook him."I-I do Tom.. I do."

Lieutenant Jopson shook his head in denial, you don't leave the person you love behind, you don't do that, that wasn't love.

Sobbing loudly he slammed his other fist as hard as he could (which wasn't very at all) against Edward's chest, trying to inflict at least some of the hurt the man had caused to him, and Edward choked on a sob too gathering his wrist in his hand with the other one as he tried to shush him.

“Y-You left me Edward! Y-You.. You left m-nnn!”

Quickly as to not hear the awful thing again he pressed his lips against the other man’s in a silent apology.

He watched those angry pale eyes soften as Thomas melted against him like butter left out on a hot non arctic summer day. His cracked lips responding desperately, sloppily, against his own. Edward could taste blood, no could taste the scurvy that had taken such a hold of his Thomas.

His Thomas.

Good Christ what had he done?

When he finally pulled away from the kiss he could see the tears running down Jopson’s face, could feel his own to match them. Gently he brought his hands to cup his love’s dirty face wiping his tears away with his thumbs.

“I-I am so sorry… Le Vesconte wouldn’t listen. I… I should have stayed with you.”

Thomas’s eyes blinked slowly trying to process the words.

Le Vesconte?

Henry Le Vesconte?

Lieutenant Henry Le Vesconte?

He wasn’t in charge of the expedition, Captain Crozier was.

“What… what about the Captain?” he asked tearfully.

Edward was confused for a moment but when it finally hit him he wanted to kick himself.

No one had told the the third lieutenant of Crozier’s capture.

Had Thomas thought the captain ordered him left behind?

The mere thought of this made his blood turn to ice that would break Thomas.

Captain Crozier was a good man. He would never have abandoned any of the men, not even one, he had said just as much. However without being told of their captain’s situation their departure wouldn’t have anything but this to Jopson.

He shook his head sadly, “The Captain was taken by Hickey’s group Tom. Le Vesconte and the men didn’t want to run into a fight.”

Jopson’s eyes widened in alarm before narrowing and before Edward realized what was happening the man’s right arm moved and he found himself cuffed across the face so hard that he fell back on his arse.

Where had that burst of strength come from?

“I- hey!” he snapped but Thomas wasn’t even listening instead he was untangling himself from his nest of blankets, and he watched silently with no shortage of surprise when his lover slowly managed to clamber to his feet, the long legs so wobbly they reminded Edward of a newborn foal trying to walk for the first time.

Thomas was looking at him with something Edward had never yet seen before and that was a furious unyielding rage that made his eyes look more of a dark gray than the pale he was so accustomed to. He was breathing heavily, his chest puffing out accompanied by a nauseating rattle with each inhale.

“Y-You left him ALONE!? W-With that monster!?! Edward! How could you!” the younger man’s angered shouts were interrupted by the hitching of his breath.

“B-But… I can’t take on a mutineer camp all by myself...” he sputtered in astonishment.

“Give me your gun.” the third lieutenant snarled angrily.

His eyes trailed down to the legs trembling so violently beneath the man’s weight and his eyes misted with tears again, he knew what he was going to say next would hurt the younger man, the man he loved with all his heart.

He shook his head at him with sad eyes, “Thomas… you can’t take a mutineer camp all by yourself either...”

“The hell I can’t!” stormy gray eyes flashed angrily and Thomas took a step forward only for his weak legs to buckle beneath him, but Edward shot up and caught him around the waist just before he hit the ground cradling the man tenderly in his lap he buried his face in the man’s dark greasy hair where he proceeded to sob and the younger lieutenant started to sob as well, helplessness and despair overwhelming him.

“I-I’m sorry Tom… I’m so so sorry...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW!!! I SAID THIS WAS ONLY GOING TO HAVE A CHAPTER OR TWO BUT GOD DAMMIT I CAN'T HELP MYSELF AND I AM CRYING AND I AM BROKEN!!! WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?!!?!?! SO YES THIS MIGHT BECOME A MULTI-FIC STORY!! I AM NOT SORRY!!!
> 
> Please forgive any inaccuracies, I'm not a historian, I'm just a fangirl... who doesn't dig too much into research...
> 
> ... god I'm awful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... if you need tissues... yeah.... 
> 
> I did.

_He remained kneeling on the ice in shock with Jopson slumped against him. It was Lady Silence who snapped him back to attention when she dragged the small sledge they had brought on their journey here to a stop beside them._

_Carefully he lowered the man to the ground to rest on one of the many blankets._

_He used his foot to hook hold of some more of the discarded covers, laying them flat so he could bundle the young man’s frail body with as many of them as he could, the ones that weren’t soaked anyways._

_Before he started to wrap his lieutenant’s body, he let his eyes scan the emaciated figure once more._

_Clothes stained with dried blood and dirt were riddled with holes and tears, the remains of his great coat were in shambles and as he slid the dark sleeves up, he found that the right sleeve of his sweater had been torn off and the fabric of his undershirt’s sleeve beneath it was torn, split all the way up his arm at the seem._

_Large holes in most of the layered articles showed spans of his bare chest in parts where the tears had overlapped. He had dried blood all along his hairline and the wild facial hair._

_Dark ugly bruises laid waste to most spans of visible skin on his chest and arms. His trousers had holes in them, one of the legs had been torn off just below the knee where he could see his long drawers and the prominent crimson where a wound on his leg had soaked through them._

_‘No a reopened wound, that’s the one from the accident all those years ago.’ he reminded himself._

_The young man whimpered softly at the cold and he decided that he would check him over later. He looked at Lady Silence and cleared his throat trying to find his voice again._

_**“Kipilauguk.”**_ _he stated his intention with a shift slight shift of the blanket in his good hand. He was pleased when the woman seemed to understand, stepping forward she helped him wrap the blankets snugly around Jopson’s lithe form. Then the two of them carefully managed to move him onto the sledge, Silence took the liberty of securing him while he walked around the camp briefly one last time._

_Francis had found Jopson’s pack in the corner of the tent and moved to retrieve it, he didn’t know if the man would want the personal effects or not later but he was going to give him that option. He wandered over to where Little’s frozen body sat and knelt beside his first lieutenant. A wave of sadness hit him hard and he placed his hand on E_ _dward’s shoulder running it down his arm, he noticed a large gaping hole in his sleeve where a chunk of flesh had been cut out of his arm. He swallowed his nausea as he looked away._

_‘Good Christ...’ he thought silently raising to his feet he looked at Silence who nodded, and they began to set off. Perhaps.. after Jopson was well enough.. if he survived that is... they’d come back and bury the men._

_About twenty minutes into their walk, Jopson had started to stir and Crozier looked over his shoulder momentarily. He observed the young man as he gradually became more aware of himself, despite his delirious state._

_Groaning softly he twitched slightly, before he wiggled against the ropes that had been used to keep him secured on the sledge to ensure he wouldn’t fall off. It soon became apparent that his immobility from them were causing him emotional distress when he whined softly._

_Lady Silence placed a hand on his shoulder, she had a look of confusion upon her face obviously wondering why he was looking over his shoulder at the other man._

_**“Uimajâjuk...”** he muttered softly. _

_Checking on the younger man briefly he looked over his shoulder again when the noises of upset died down but his weak struggles persisted._

_“At ease Jopson.” he tried to reassure the man before turning back to focus on their trek._

_All at once something was set ablaze in the young man, he let out shrill yell that startled both him, and judging by the way the woman jumped, Lady Silence as well._

_Recovering from the shock of the outburst she took a step back._

_“No… N-No!” he cried, his body jerking slightly as he tried to lift his back from the sledge._

_Quickly he dropped the lead on the sledge turning to kneel beside it, shushing the frail body that lay on top. He let his hand find Jopson's greasy hair and pushed some of the long tendrils out of his face as he remembered seeing the man do countless times before. He had hoped, that it would have been comforting to him, but instead the young man keened softly, turning his head away from the touch, a strangled sob tearing free from his throat._

_“Please… d-don’t kill me… please… let me go...” he begged brokenly._

_Silence met his eyes again and she looked almost frustrated that the were stopped again so he offered her a brief explanation with a gesture of his hand, **“Kuatsâk.”**_

_The woman seemed to relax a bit before wandering off, why Crozier didn’t know maybe it was to give the two of them space._

_“P-Please… d-don’t hurt me… I-I just want.. I want… o-oh god…” Jopson carried on in his fevered hysterics._

_“Thomas.. hush lad. It’s me, you are safe. No one is going to hurt you.”_

_Jopson’s pale eyes opened and he could see so much terror, pain, and suffering within them as they watered heavily. Another whine, this time one of pain and discomfort and Jopson squeezed his icy eyes shut tightly with another small whimper_

_‘Fuck!’_

_He had forgotten about the snow blindness!_

_With a fuel of urgency, he grabbed the corner of one of the wool blankets tearing a long strip off._

_“Edward… Edward help me… I c-can’t… I can’t move… please…” he sobbed with desperation that was gushing like fresh wound._

_“Lift your head up Lieutenant.” he ordered softly but the lad shook his head desperately, too delirious to understand, too terrified of a possible assault to comply._

_The sight was so awful, so heartbreaking, he felt tears gathering in his own eyes and he couldn’t help how his own voice crackled._

_“Thomas, you.. ye’ve got snow blindness son. I want to cover your eyes so the light doesn’t hurt them.”_

_Still, the young man couldn’t do anything more than sob quietly, his body trembling with both fear and the cold that had soaked into his bones._

_Years of being so skilled tying knots for the various uses at sea, even with only one hand, it took only a few seconds to make a loop with the fabric, a loop that he knew could be able to cinch tightly, if he could get the boy to cooperate._

_Which he clearly wasn’t._

_Either way, he needed to do something for those eyes so they wouldn’t be in such a painful discomfort. It might not be much, but it was the best he had to offer at the moment. Carefully he lifted the lad’s head with his stump of a hand, and began to maneuver the loop into position, and that is when all hell broke loose._

_“No! No! Don’t!!! Please leave me alone!”_

_“Dammit lad, hold still.” he gruffed losing his patience._

_He looked over at Silence when he saw her shadow cast above them, she stared at him with another one of those infuriating stares._

_**“Illuijuk.”** he explained, his voice unintentionally snapish as he struggled to keep the man’s head under control._

_That was soon remedied when two fur clad hands appeared, they carefully held the young man’s jerking head still, despite the lad's fevered protests, so he could get the fabric around his face. When it was done, the boy just cried. He cried and he cried, and no matter how many times he tried to console him, he wouldn’t settle._

_“Francis.” a familiar voice came from behind him._

_He froze and he felt his heart stutter violently in his chest._

_It couldn’t be._

_He turned around and all the sudden the sky went dark and he suddenly found himself on board Erebus in the great cabin. There he saw James standing there with a drink in hand smiling warmly at him._

_‘What in the name of Christ?’_

_James walked up to him setting the drink down as he passed the table._

_“Dear Francis, why are you staring?”_

* * *

Francis awoke with a start he was soaked in a cold sweat and he had to take a moment to calm his breathing.

God what a wretched dream.

Huffing softly he scrubbed his hand over his face, that one was new. Often he dreamed about the horrible conditions he’d found Jopson in, but James appearing… that had never happened before. Truth be told he hadn’t had a dream about the Commander in quite a while, much to his dismay.

He looked over at the clock, it was very early in the morning and the sun wouldn’t be up for a few hours yet. In the hallway he could see the fading light of an oil lamp.

 _‘Jopson must be up.’_ he realized.

With a yawn he laid his head back down and stared up at the ceiling as he let his thoughts wander. It wasn’t unusual since they returned to England, for Jopson to have trouble sleeping and it seemed like once a week, every Friday the lad would drown himself in alcohol til he passed out. It was always Friday.

  
Was it Friday?

Wait, no yesterday was Friday.

That would mean the lad was still drinking? At this hour?

With a weary sigh Francis pulled himself from his bed his stocking covered feet meeting the cool wooden floorboards causing his body to shudder momentarily before he quietly made his way down the hallway towards the dining hall where the light source was coming from.

Sure enough it was Jopson he was sitting at the dinner table silently staring at the window across the room. To his surprise there were no spirits cluttered on the table but instead a cup of tea still untouched and a few various items.

“It’s nights like these I miss Neptune...” the younger man’s gaze never left the window as he spoke the words to him.

When Francis said nothing he continued.

“On Terror, sometimes I would let him climb into my bunk with me… he’d keep me warm.”

The older man chuckled softly at the given information, “So, yer the one who taught that beast he could sleep wherever he pleased are you?”

Jopson smiled ever so faintly but it didn’t last long. “Yes, Sir.”

Francis felt his heart throb painfully at the memory of his beloved canine companion, quietly he walked around the table grabbing a chair as he went so he could pull it up beside Jopson’s.

“Aye, he was a good dog. A giant black drooling beast of course, but a good dog all the same.”

As he sat the young man’s eyes drifted to the table staring at some of the things cluttered about the table, he let his follow.

There were various things… a bible, a couple of old pocket watches one with chain and one without, a pipe, some old letters, a small glass bottle, a couple handkerchiefs, and a faded paper with a beautiful picture of a blue bird that looked to have been made with water colors.

He swallowed heavily as he recognized some of the items and he looked over at the young man with sad eyes.

“What’s all this then, lad?”

Jopson was quiet for a while before slowly meeting his eyes.

“Friends, Sir… or what I have left of them.” he replied picking up the bible and holding it out to him.

Francis took it quietly, he already knew what it was, he didn’t have to look inside the cover for the name John Irving to know whose it was. After all, it was the same book he’d read a passage from at the lieutenant’s brief service.

“This belonged to Lieutenant Irving.” he noted aloud.

“Yes, Dr Goodsir believed that Edward should have it… I brought it back with me.”

“Those two were close. I remember Lieutenant Little took his death very hard indeed, I could hear him in the officer’s tent for several nights after we put him to rest.”

Thomas picked up the picture of the blue bird, he observed how the lad eyed it fondly as he held it between his hands.

“John painted this for me. After Sir John… passed, we were all mourning in some way. It seems at one point, he had noticed a period of melancholy in me. Shortly after one evening, before he turned in for the night, he beckoned me to his cabin and bestowed this to me. He said to continue to have faith and that God would help us through that time of trial... I thought it was very thoughtful and it truly is very pretty.” he explained.

Francis had to agree with him. The brilliant swirls of the various shades of blues and the tree that the bird sat upon were done very nicely. The man had indeed some unique talents.

“Aye, that it is.”

He had noticed how Jopson had paused momentarily to think of how to word Franklin’s death. They both tried to avoid discussion of the creature the natives had called Tuunbaq. It was either referred to as a bear or not spoken of at all. It helped them both cope that way, it was easier than the reminder of how many men were slain by the creature and thus they tried to ignore any such topic. Though he was also surprised, but also very proud that John had provided Jopson with some spiritual comfort in a time where the lad had apparently been struggling and it seemed he had been blind to the fact.

Crozier picked up one of the gold pocket watches, the one with the chain, and he turned it over in his hand.

“Mr Blanky gave me that Sir, when we first set sail. He’d bought it for me before we left Greenhithe, he said that he remembered the one I had on Sir James Ross’s expedition looked like it was about done for.”

The older man laughed softly, “Knowing Thomas it probably wasn’t worded quite so nicely.”

“Oh but Sir, you are absolutely right! Are you sure you want me to indulge?" Thomas asked with a sly grin.

Francis narrowed his eyes suspiciously, he knew far too well his old friend's mannerisms, his no care for authority and bold as fucking brass.

No doubt whatever Blanky had said, even though in jest, he automatically knew it had been about him. "What did that washed up scalawag say?"

Jopson smirked and cleared his throat.

"If remember correctly, it was something like this, Mr Jopson, if it is truly your wish to follow that depressed Irish bastard from one bloody poll to the other you be my guest, but please for the love of bloody Christ take this lad. Hopefully it can help ya keep a tighter schedule so the Wrath of the Irish doesn't send the men hurling themselves over the fucking gunwales." He explained even trying his best Mr Blanky impression but failing miserably.

Francis gaped for a moment fighting the urge to smile, he took a sip of the untouched tea and scowled at the table muttering softly something along the lines of, ‘Mange ridden arsehole’ which caused Jopson to chuckle quietly.

“You recognize the drops from Doctor McDonald I’m sure.” he motioned to the small glass bottle, the label now faded.

“I did.”

When he turned his attention to one of the letters, he had caught the name Edward Little on a piece. Jopson followed his eyes and Francis now figured that it was more than likely, very private, especially since Jopson covered the lower half of it with his hand, cheeks alighting with a blush.

An awkward silence hovered over them and Francis studied Jopson intently, wishing more than anything that he could take the boy’s pain away.

“How did you do it, Francis?” Thomas’s broken voice reached his ears, and while the lifelessness within it hurt, the use of his name made him smile. Even though he knew Jopson’s addresses were force of habit, having worked with him for almost a decade, it was nice to hear the formalities dropped once in a while.

“Do what Thomas?”

“Mend your heart… after Captain Fitzjames passed. I know.. it must have felt the same as mine does now.”

Francis leaned back in his chair, mouth agape. He’d never shared the intimate details of his relationship with James to anyone.

Could James have told Jopson himself?

As if reading his question from his eyes alone, Jopson offered a bashful smile.

“I stumbled upon the two of you in your cabin once early in the morning, Sir. You were both still sleeping, and I had just come to retrieve my sewing kit by the door because I had forgotten it the night before.”

Crozier was gobsmacked, he couldn’t believe the lad knew such things this whole time and had never asked him about it.

Not that he ever would have admitted to it, but that was before everything that had happened.

Heaving a sigh, he looked wearily at the young man, “I didn’t lad. It is still, indeed, very much broken.”

Thomas looked down in thought, and Crozier picked up one of the two handkerchiefs. This one was fancy and, he imagined, expensive. It was a light gray overall, but there were intricate teal blue vine details embroidered into each corner.

“That was a gift to me from Captain Fitzjames. After you promoted me, Sir.”

Francis nodded, “Looks like something that oversized English peacock would have picked out.” he chuckled softly.

Jopson stuck out his lip in a pout, “I quite like it, Francis.”

“Aye, it is nice lad. I was teasing.” he said with a reassuring smile.

Thomas turned his attention to the wooden pipe and picked it up carefully between his hands, having to readjust a couple times with the odd digits on each of his fingers.

He swallowed this one he could recognize far too well.

“Edward’s pipe.” he rasped softly.

The former steward looked at him with a bit of surprise before nodding.

“You smoked with him? I knew Hodgson did and sometimes Mr Blanky.”

At this Francis couldn’t help but let out a wry laugh. “Jopson, Thomas Blanky would have smoked with the damn seals if they were to just ask him, he was as addicted to tobacco as the admiralty is insistent they will find a passage.”

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity he watched as Jopson started to laugh, an actual genuine laugh that gifted Francis with the sight of a broad grin with prominent dimples.

How he missed that smile.

“I bought it for him as a token of confidence before we set sail, although I think I shared a smoke with him once or twice.” he admitted.

“I never knew that.” was the soft whispered reply he received.

Another pause settled over them and finally Francis let out an exhausted sigh.

“Aye lad, my heart is still broken. I wish more than anything I could tell ye that it gets easier.”

Jopson’s eyes seemed to lose some of their sparkle.

“It doesn’t?”

“No. No it doesn’t. However everyone has different handling in grief Thomas, and a lot of it depends on the circumstances at the time.”

He paused watching those beautiful eyes well with tears, and oh how he wished he could make them go away, that he didn’t need to have this talk with him, but unfortunately, it was time for an intervention on his part. Especially if the lad was to continue to live with him.

The boy couldn’t sit here any more and let his whole life pass him by because of his grief, couldn’t continue to try to ritually drink himself to death every Friday, much like he himself had tried to every day for years.

It was time that he gave the young man a push in the right direction just as Jopson had for him all those nights ago while he suffered from his withdrawals aboard Terror.

They needed to move on, both of them, together if it need be.

“Thomas… one of the reasons I have been able to find some peace after James is because I euthanized him.”

Jopson’s eyes widened considerably and he suddenly looked deeply unsettled.

“Aye, I know now, just as I knew then, that he was already beyond saving in those last days. He was suffering son, and he was ready to go before things get any worse. He begged me and while it was hard indeed, if I had to do it again should there be an opportunity I would. I would save him from that pain again and again if I had to because I loved him. He loved me enough to beg me to do the hardest thing one can, and I couldn't refuse him, it would have been too cruel.”

Thomas sniffed trying to keep his tears at bay offering him the slightest of nods.

“Edward… unfortunately lad, that wasn’t the case with him. You were both in… God it was a horrible place. Thomas… you were both trying to protect each other from the other men. That camp was a madhouse of sickness and men doing the things men do when they are desperate. Then when you both finally made it through… he died.”

He watched as the younger man broke down in a mess of hysterical tears and gut churning sobs, burying his face into his hands. A lump had formed in his own throat as he watched his former steward shatter like glass.

“When he died… he was still fighting so hard, and I know he left this world knowing that you loved him and that he loved you.”

The spoken words made Jopson’s sobs morph into something akin to small wails and God if it didn’t break his heart. Franics scooted his chair closer to Thomas’s until their legs brushed against each other and gently he tugged the young man toward him. At first Jopson tried to shift away but when he tightened his grip, the younger man promptly collapsed against him his face burying itself into his nightshirt as he cried endlessly.

“Come here lad, shh… Thomas.. shh.. it’s alright..”

Knowing the poor boy was damn near inconsolable in this state, he resorted to stroking his dark hair, and he whispered gentle reassurances into his ear.

It was several moments before he settled even a little, and finally the younger man spoke, his voice muffled where it was still pressed tightly into his chest.

“I-I don’t deserve to live, Sir. I-I can’t keep going… e-everything hurts!”

Frowning he as about to protest when the lad pulled back slightly looking up at him with icy clear eyes that looked gray with the redness surrounding his pupils from his crying, and they were still full of tears. Those unique eyes that were once so full of life and purpose now held a never ending misery.

He couldn’t help but think that someone so young and beautiful should never have been allowed to be hurt so awfully.

“I-I remember I couldn't stand.. and I-I was so hungry that any movement hurt! There was... there was a body next to me and everything was foggy. I-It was so foggy but I-I know it was him! I know it was him I cut into Francis! I.. I remember because I-I found his pocket watch in his hand after I cut into him!” he cried, pointing at the watch with the broken chain that lay on the table.

They must have been the chain that had been gored into the lieutenant’s face.

“I don’t… I don’t remember doing it but I see it every time I close my eyes!! How can you call it love if you can willing eat off of someone afterwards!?!” the man wailed his voice shrill with the hysteria that was so clearly evident.

Looking into those eyes again he let out a sigh, this was so tiring. Why couldn’t the lad understand that Edward wouldn’t have cared if he ate his entire corpse? He wanted him to live. Carefully he cupped his former stew- former lieutenant’s face with his hand holding it firmly as he used his thumb to wipe away tears from his left eye.

“Thomas Jopson, Edward Little took his last breath loving you and wanting you to live.”

The reaction he got was instantaneous, and Francis could feel his heart clenching miserably as the young man’s loud noises of absolute despair renewed themselves, now seeming to increase ten fold. The noises themselves reminding Francis of that of a man being killed slowly by some torturous means. Briefly Lieutenant Irving’s corpse flashed through his mind and shook his head to rid himself of the image.

They sat there for a good long while. How long Francis couldn’t tell per say, but the sky grew lighter and lighter with the endings of night coming to a close it had to have been close to two hours, and yet it seemed like forever until Thomas’s sobs were reduced to hiccups and sniffles. Finally he felt confident to speak again.

“Thomas, do you remember anything of when we found you?”

Exhausted but still awake the young man shook his head uttering a feeble ‘no’.

He just nodded and let out another sigh, allowing his hand to continue petting that inky dark hair in a soothing pattern as he spoke.

“Ye were so sick, lad. Ye was shivering beneath a pile of blankets and ye were blind as a bat from the snow. There was.. small chunks of meat on the ground beside ye and you were gnawing on some like a rabid dog.”

Jopson trembled against the older man on the verge of another breakdown. Thomas noted how his captain had discarded all attempts to hide his accent, something that he’d only borne witness to a handful of times. It was a fact that made him sad because he’d always liked it.

“Aye, yer clothes were torn so badly that fabric hung loosely off yer bare chest in places, a shirt sleeve completely torn off and a trouser leg lost below the knee blood was seeping through the long drawers against the scar from your accident all those years ago. Any skin that was bare to the cold was a light blue despite the sweat that shone on it. To this day I marvel at the fact that you didn’t loose that leg.”

He slipped his hand underneath Thomas’s chin cupping the tear streaked face tenderly.

“Ye were helpless out there lad; disoriented, sick, starving, blinded and cold. I will… I won’t be able to get that look in yer eyes that day out of my head as long as I live. Gods ye were so scared Thomas.”

Jopson just stared back at him with wide eyes that reminded Crozier of some sort of exotic owl.

"Edward would want you to live son, not waste away in your grief, you know this. Why don't we give it a try lad? Together we can move on."

When Thomas said nothing, Crozier let his chin rest on top of his head nuzzling the soft hair as he embraced him tightly.

"Can we try, please? If not for ourselves lad, then for them. So the misery that we endured in that place ceases to exist altogether, to let them know that the cycle of suffering does indeed end."

Something about his words must have struck home with the boy because he wrapped both arms around him in a crushing embrace, burying his face against his neck. He could feel hot tears, likely fueled by so many emotions that ran through him, falling onto his bare skin. As Francis returned the embrace he let his mind wander and slowly a smile crossed his face, a realization coming to him. Thomas's birthday was in a week and after hearing him talk about their lost canine friend, he had a pretty good idea what he wanted to get the lad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was edited on 07/28/19
> 
> There had been more I had wanted to do with this regarding Silence and Crozier but I hadn't been able to find any Inuktituk resources on my phone, but low and behold I hop on a computer and I found at least something easier. 
> 
> DO NOT YELL AT ME IF THIS IS INACCURATE T_T one can only find so much and half of the time you don't even know if it's from the right region. This is worse than the Khuzdul stuff from Dwarven scholar that I'd used for my Hobbit fics... I thought that was hard... fuck that shit. 
> 
> IF ANYONE KNOWS HOW TO DO THIS SORT OF THING AND WANTS TO HELP ME I WOULD BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO SEND UP EMAIL COMMUNICATION IMMEDIATELY. 
> 
> **I've been using the Labrador Dictionary**
> 
> Kipilauguk - Cover him up. *  
> Uimajâjuk - He is moving around.  
> Kuatsâk - Frightened.  
> Illuijuk - He is snow blind.
> 
> Translations with a * mean that I'm not sure if I- FUCK IT here!
> 
> http://www.labradorvirtualmuseum.ca/inuttut-english.htm
> 
> Why is this so hard! ;;_;;


	4. Chapter 4

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
**~ August 22nd, 1848 ~**  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As he came to he was aware of the many blankets that were wrapped around him while he shivered and the strong arms beneath his shoulder blades and knees. He could feel the warmth coming from the skin not covered just above Edward's collar radiating against his cheek from where his head was resting upon the junction of his shoulder and neck.

They'd managed but two miles of him walking with the support of Edward's weight before he physically couldn't any more.

He must have blacked out too.

Why, why did things have to happen this way? Why had they been subjected to all of the horrible things that had occurred in this wretched place? Why did so many have to die? Lieutenant Irving, Mr Collins, Doctor McDonald, Captain Fitzjames, Mr Blanky, Doctor Goodsir... and now even their captain Francis Crozier. All of them, people he had called friends that had been lost.

Thomas felt the tears forming in his eyes and he curled himself against Edward's chest leaning heavily against his warm body.

"I miss Lieutenant Irving, Edward." He whispered softly.

The older man pulled him the slightest bit closer resting his cheek on top of his head momentarily before kissing it softly.

"Me too love, me too. He was a good friend to both of us."

Jopson let out a small chuckle and he watched his lover raise an eyebrow in question a weak grin forming upon his face. "What's so funny?"

He shook his head insistently but he finally caved and decided to let the older man in on his thoughts.

"I-It's.. can you-.. can you imagine what his reaction.. if we had told him.. what we did two... cabins down f-from his...?"

Edward burst into a fit of giggles his shoulders shook heavily as he did and the man's laugh was such a gift because it was so, so very rare. Grinning happily at the man's reaction, he decided to keep going if only to hear that beautiful laughter even a couple seconds more because he knew, he may not hear it again.

"Edward... I-I truly think... his head would have exploded."

The other man roared uncontrollably with laughter to the point he had to stop walking in fear he would have dropped the younger lieutenant. Slowly, with his laughter still bubbling up from deep within, he eased them both onto the ground until he settled himself down upon the rocks with him sitting in the man’s lap, as hot tears of mirth started to trickle down his face and disappearing into his wild beard.

Eventually though, like all good things that come to an end, Thomas watched as his love’s laughter died down to giggle, and then eventually came to a stop much to his dismay.

Yet even after all their giggles died down they remained there, Edward sitting on the seemingly endless sea of shale with him nestled on top of his legs. 

The gloomy cloud of melancholia returned once again in both of them and he let his head rest heavily on Edward’s shoulder causing Edward to pull him even closer against him, burying his face into his neck as he squeezed him as tight as he felt comfortable, the ever present cautious approach in fear of hurting his weakened frail body.

Gratefully he snuggled into the embrace managing to wiggle free an arm he let his hand entwine with dark waves. Edward swallowed thickly, he’d heard the faintly audible noise from where his head lay so close to the older man’s throat.

“I love you.” he spoke softly, and he could feel Edward shudder against him before mouthing against his neck, placing kisses and small nibbles, as the older man fought with temptation.

Oh how he wished the two of them could be anywhere but here. Even back on Terror to enjoy their remaining time within cold wooden walls of comfort.

He didn't know who yet lived but of his friends and the people who personally mattered to him Edward was all he had left. 

They were never going home. 

They were going to die in this godforsaken place. 

He realized this now after their captain was taken from them. Captain Crozier had been the best chance they'd had, the man was an arctic veteran, he’d spoke the native language, he was a born leader who knew how this land worked.

And that mutinous rat of a man, someone who had served beside them all, Cornelius Hickey, he’d not only taken their beloved captain from them, but also taken their best chance for survival… their only chance for survival.

Tears welled up in his eyes at this and he couldn’t help but wonder silently if their captain had suffered.

“D-Do you... think he’s still alive?” he couldn’t stop the question from springing forth if he wanted to.

Edward looked at him pondering his words but he offered nothing instead with a grunt Edward slowly began to stand up again after offering one last cuddling embrace.

It was all the answer he needed.

Jopson wished he could turn back time. All the friends lost. All the bad decisions. All the things that had doomed them from the start. He wished so very, very much that he could go back in time.

Then again he would never have met Edward if that was the case.

Was their story truly one never to make it from this place?

Merely the thought of that possibility made the tears spill from his eyes as Edward continued walking, his love looked down at him somehow he'd seemed to sense his distress. He offered to him a sad smile before looking back towards the rocks.

Why? Why did their story have to be so short? Why couldn’t they have had more time to be happy with each other?

They did make each other happy didn’t they? Edward made him happy, very much so. He only wished he’d had the courage to engage the man before things had gotten so bad… if he’d known at the beginning of the voyage as soon as they left Greenhithe, what he knew now, he would have shamelessly cornered the older lieutenant in his bed cabin in hopes to pursue the wonder that had bloomed beautifully from their relationship. 

Maybe he would have been able to see more of that smile, hear more of the man’s beautiful laughter, felt more of those wondrous caresses and those soft lips on his own. Perhaps they would have shared far more than the many kisses they already had, or more cold miserable nights turned warm and beautiful as their bodies had been entwined in the euphoric dance of passion, or even just tangled in an embrace that lasted the entire night as they slept holding each other. More personal letters declaring an unyielding blooming love for each other, like the many he had bundled up in his pack that was slung over Edward’s shoulder.

Everything was silent as he thought, besides the crunching of shale beneath Edward's boots until finally the older man broke it.

"My own Beloved, who hast lifted me" came his love's weary baritone.

The words made his ears perk and his attention was caught the tears slowly multiplied from his eyes as he remembered how Edward used to recite poetry to him as they had lay tucked in each other's arms in the lieutenant's bunk.

The memories seemed like a different lifetime ago now... and it was, everything had changed.

"From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown" Edward continued his voice wavered with the verge of tears.

"A-And, in be..twixt the languid... ringlets.. blown..." he replied his voice still hoarse and raw from all the crying and yelling he did earlier.

There was a long pause and he looked up at Edward expectantly, waiting for him to speak the next verse only to have two tears drip onto his forehead as Edward shook his head with shame and no shortage of disappointment, he was grappling desperately to remember the words to one of the poems he'd recited to him over and over again it was one of his favourites. His love choked on a sob that broke his heart.

"A life-breath, till.. t-the forehead hope..fully .." he continued pleading silently to see the spark of remembrance in his lover's eyes.

It was there but it was very faint and despite the fact that the man's mouth hung open and his jaw worked he still struggled.

"S-Shines.. out- -" he offered the first couple words in attempts to help the older man along.

It seemed to work too because Edward looked down at him with big brown eyes twinkling with gratitude.

"Shines out again, as all the angels see"

He smiled weakly up at him he had forgotten how much he'd missed this.

"B-Be..fore thy.. saving kiss-" he had to stop as a coughing spell took hold of him and left him breathless and miserable afterwards.

Edward leaned his head down to press a gentle kiss to his sweaty forehead.

"My own, my own" he finished for him softly a warm kind smile and big brown eyes so full of love staring down at him.

Thomas could see the camp in the distance and the older lieutenant stopped walking. He was nervous it was so very clear that Edward was afraid of how this was to go down. 

Would they turn him away? 

Or was it something else that troubled him? 

Carefully he brought a tentative hand to rest on his love's cheek.

"W-Who camest.. to me when the world was.. gone..." He urged voice ragged from the previous coughing spell.

Edward took a deep breath and steeled himself continuing to trek down the hill but Thomas could see how his bottom lip quivered briefly. "And I who looked for only God found thee"

At the mention of God, Jopson was reminded of Lieutenant Irving.

John and his inseparable bible, the bible they had read a favourite prayer out of as they buried him in a grave of rock.

He recalled the shock the state of the young lieutenant's corpse had on them both, but more so Edward. The twenty... three stab wounds, his man parts cut off, and his scalp torn from his head. The contrast between the dark bruises and red wounds had against his sheet white skin.

The cross necklace still lying against his prominent collarbone...

Edward had run out of the tent retching violently on the ground before breaking down in a hysterical hyperventilating mess that he himself had to sort out. He’d had to bodily haul the poor man to his feet and dragged him away from Goodsir’s tent, to their own where the man continued to sob endlessly.

It was a painful memory and he swallowed to keep the tears at bay.

"I...I find.. thee; I am.. I am.. safe, and.. s-strong... and glad" he could barely get the words out now that coughing spell made him more aware of the fatigue eating at him heavily threatening to pull him into darkness but he fought to keep his eyes open.

"As one who stands in dewless asphodel"

Edward seemed to notice his growing exhaustion and he leaned in again. "It's okay Thomas. I got you."

He could only nod blinking sleepily at him before settling his head back against Edward's broad chest and listened quietly.

"Looks backward on the tedious time he had"

Jopson couldn't help his wandering thoughts as he continued to listen to his lover recite the poem to him.

So many men lay dead in this cruel wasteland of ice, snow, and frost. Was this passage really worth any of this?

"In the upper life so, I, with bosom-swell"

There also was the matter of the 'creature'. What was it? No... where was it!? Was it still hunting them?

"Make witness, here, between the good and bad"

It hadn't been spotted since the failed executions at Terror Camp. Did that mean it could have lost interest? Either way he knew no one would make it out of this place alive, none of them anyhow.

"That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well."

Edward placed another kiss to his forehead and let their noses brush together for a second and Thomas stared at those freckles on the end of his nose, each one he'd kissed so many times before, how he wished he could still until the rest of days.

"Rest Tom, I'll be here I promise."

He nodded before leaning up to kiss the older man which was both gratefully welcomed and returned.

It was brief but then it was intended to be so they were just out of earshot as they approached the camp where they could see the men sitting in front of one of the spirit stoves.

"I love you Edward." He whispered softly his eyes slipping closed as sleep was calling to him.

The last thing he heard before it claimed him was his love's heartfelt, _'I love you too Thomas'_.

As Edward entered the camp he felt his anxiety soar higher than surely any bird has gone. It didn't take long for him to get noticed and Lieutenant Le Vesconte approached him with a fixed glare.

Not yet ready to physically take the other man if he had to Edward moved quietly to the tent he and the other lieutenant had been sharing, his shoulder brushing against his as he pushed past him with only a brief nod of acknowledgement.

Carefully he laid Jopson's bundled form down upon the furs he normally slept on making sure he was indeed still asleep and that he was sure no inch of him was to get cold.

With a deep breath he ducked out of the tent to face Le Vesconte who looked oh so very pissed. "Edward. Where in God's name were you?"

Terror's first lieutenant came to stand almost chest to chest with the man of the same rank as he from Erebus.

"You do not demand answers from me Henry. Captain Crozier left me in charge."

“He’s just another mouth to feed! We only have maybe three weeks left of provisions!” the man snapped.

Something about the words made Edward snap and he socked Le Vesconte in the jaw much to the man’s surprise as he stumbled backwards. 

Henry was stunned but immediately a look of anger flashed upon his face and he made to go after him in retaliation. It was actually John Weekes who pulled the angry lieutenant back.

“That man is a Lieutenant of her majesty’s royal navy, as are you. He is a man, not a sick animal to be left to die alone. Jopson has every right to be here as any of us do and if you or anyone here have a problem with this, then you can leave. We will not be abandoning anyone and I am ashamed that you talked me into such earlier. Third-lieutenant Thomas Jopson is in my care and there will be no ill mannerisms or hands lifted to him. Do I make myself clear?” Edward asked, closing the space between him and Le Vesconte so that their faces were inches apart.

Henry grit his teeth but nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MADE MYSELF CRY AGAIN WHY DO I DO THIS!! 
> 
> The poem recited was
> 
> "My Own Beloved, Who Hast Lifted Me" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
> 
> I do not know if this particular poem had been written by her at this date, I tried to find when it was written but I could not find such information. SO WE WILL JUST SAY IT WAS!!


	5. Chapter 5

**~ August 22nd, 1848 ~**

Le Vesconte had taken the first watch that night, still too angered by Edward's rash decision and more so the fact that the younger man struck him.

Edward was glad for this because he wanted to spend some time privately with Thomas before the other lieutenant was relieved by one of the others and would join them in the tent later, likely staying on the other side and avoiding them, but still there nonetheless.

After his argument with Erebus's lieutenant he'd melted a bucket of snow and warmed it as best he could, grateful that the arctic summer didn't cause the water to chill so quickly, he'd washed Jopson's face, neck, and anything he felt was safe to do in here among the men which was basically anything above the waist. He'd even wet a separate rag to run it through his hair to at least remove some of the grime and blood that had gathered in it over the long weeks.

He'd tried to be extremely careful, avoiding the crown of thorns along his hairline, and trying desperately not to accidentally pull any hairs from their weakened roots. Of course some strands were removed but that was inevitable, he just hoped the man would find some comfort in his hair being less filthy.

With a sigh, he crawled underneath all the blankets and furs sliding himself behind Jopson's lithe body, which was pleased to find neither sweating with his sickness nor trembling from cold. He wrapped his arms around him startling the man awake with a strangled cry.

"Shh.. Thomas, it's just me. I'm sorry my intention wasn't to scare you." he reassured softly into his ear.

"Edward...?"

"Mhmm." He hummed his response.

A silence hovered over the two of them until Jopson rolled over to face him and Edward was shocked and deeply saddened to see tears spilling freely down his face.

"Oh Tom... what is it?"

"I.. I want... I need.. I-I.. Edward... I want you to..." he tried to explain his voice barely a whisper as he tried to keep as quiet as possible.

It didn't take him long to understand.

_'Oh.'_

He looked toward the tent flap and swallowed nervously. He knew Le Vesconte still had a couple hours yet, but he also was less than twenty feet away.

Gazing back into those pleading eyes he understood why he'd requested it.

One last time. That was the intention.

He agreed, but he still felt the need to urge caution. Especially knowing how Thomas was not gifted with as much control of his vocalness in comparison to himself during most... if not all their sexual activities. He tended to be on the loud side, no matter how hard he tried to suppress the noises.

"Okay, but you need to be quiet Tommy." he whispered and shared a brief kiss with him before patting his side.

"Roll over." He instructed.

With a grunt and the creaking of his joints, the smaller man obeyed, and Edward wrapped his arms around him again this time pulling his back taught against his chest.

He placed his mouth against Thomas' neck and began trailing kisses and very, _very_ gentle nips against the tender flesh. The younger man shuddered with want and Edward let one hand move from the middle of his embrace, to the front of his trousers, undoing the snaps before letting his hands find Jopson's waist. He let them rest there heavily as he inhaled his lover's unique scent, now more prominent with the dirt, sweat, and grime washed away.

Ash, soap, and the faintest traces of tobacco.

Jopson was not a heavy smoker by any means, half the time it made him nauseous, but there were those rare occasions.

He slid his trousers and long drawers down his legs, and used his own feet to help the man free his own, but he purposely left the man's layered stockings where they were, the last thing he wanted was for the younger lieutenant to lose toes or even worse his foot to gangrene.

Edward snaked his arm around him again, this time letting his hand reach down the front of his small clothes to seek out the other man's flaccid prick and Jopson keened lowly as he wrapped his hand around it, thumbing softly the head as he tried to stroke some life into into it.

His other hand found his lips and he prodded at them with his pointer finger.

"Open your mouth love."

Thomas obeyed letting Edward slide two fingers past his sore, cracked lips into his mouth.

He already knew what to do, they had so many times before, but he knew this time was different, that they wouldn't spend time with each other in this way again, and that was very hard.

Still he worked up as much saliva as he could and sucked on the digits softly, slowly, affectionately, wanting to relish their last dance of intimacy as much as he could and Edward let his fingers thrust in deeper a couple times, enjoying the soft whimpers he received in response.

All at once, Thomas choked on a sob and Edward shushed him softly, he understood so clearly how painful this was for him, having to give up on a dream they had both wanted so very badly. Forced to accept this cruel reality.

"I know Thomas, I know. Take your time." he assured quietly.

Thomas let his hand come up to hold his wrist carefully, he sucked on the digits for a couple more moments before he slid them out with a gently tug on his wrist. Silently he turned the hand over and placed a soft kiss against his knuckles before letting go.

Edward kissed the back of his head lovingly and eased his small clothes down around his knees so had better access, then he slid his hand down the cleft of that still finely sculpted arse and spread Thomas's legs slightly with one of his own, easily guiding his hand to the quivering entrance of the body that had belonged to him, and only him, for the past couple years.

He eased a wet finger inside and he noted how much resistance he was getting from within the body beside him, he couldn't even get his finger in all the way he was clamped shut tight with him being in the emotional state he was in.

"Ssh.. Tom you need to relax... deep breaths..." he urged.

It took a moment of him trying to even out his breathing but finally Edward felt the tight passage loosen around him and he nuzzled into the man's hair in silent praise. With the resistance gone, he was able to insert his finger the rest of the way, burying it deep inside him up to his knuckle.

"I love you... I love you.." he heard the younger man sob quietly.

"And I you Tom, that will never change. It's alright, just lay there and relax love, let me take care of you tonight... let me make you feel good."

He wriggled his finger this way and then that, wiggled it like a worm, thrusting it in as far as he possibly could as he searched diligently for that one spot he was hoping would help stir the poor flaccid prick in his hand to life because his ministrations clearly weren't enough anymore, not like this, not in this situation.

Edward eased in another slick finger causing the young man to groan ever so softly at the dull ache caused from the stretch, and he was pleased to finally feel the cock in his hand twitch and stiffen ever so slightly.

"There we go.. that's it.." he praised the response, kissing his temple before moving back to his throat mouthing against it eagerly as he licked and nibbled at the sensitive spot over his pulse.

He pushed the two fingers in deep, pressing them up and curling them, making wide scissor motions in every angle he could, trying to prepare as much room inside the other lieutenant's body as he could.

All at once Jopson mewled softly his hips pushing backwards against him as he touched something deep in his body. His prick immediately stirred to half-hardness.

He pushed his fingers in deep again, searching silently for that bundle of nerves. A few seconds of searching finally revealed it to him when Jopson let out a keen followed by a sob.

"This it?" he asked dryly rubbing his fingers against the nub earning another groan.

"Y-Yes..."

He nodded, scissoring his fingers a couple more times before slowly inserting a third thick digit that he had to gradually wiggle along before it was fully entrenched inside him.

Jopson groaned at the feeling of fullness, subconsciously spreading his legs to make more room inside his body for Edward's wiggling fingers as they continued to stretch him open.

“E-Edward… please…” he panted heavily, and it was all Edward needed to hear to have him removing his hands from his lover’s body to undo his own pants.

Thomas shuddered in anticipation when he felt the man’s prodding hardness pushing against him and he grabbed one of the blankets to bite down on the cloth while still being mindful of his weakened teeth.

As Edward entered him he couldn’t help but think quietly in his head as he let out a choked moan of delight.

_‘I love you Edward Little. I love you so much that I will never be the same man I once was again.’_

**~ Present ~**

Francis let out a sigh as he waited for James to show up with the day late birthday gift he’d gotten for Jopson.

It would be nice to see Ross again, he hadn’t seen him for a couple months now and he knew that telegrams did not really allow one to catch up completely.

The man had been more than welcoming and supportive of both Jopson, and himself, originally while he was under the mandatory court marshal for loss of a ship… two for that matter. The admiralty would hear no arguments about Jopson’s fragile mental state, from doctors, Ross, or even himself! The boy’s captain for almost a decades worth of time!

Of course the admiralty wanted to play the blame game on him, and he knew they were targeting him for his Irish heritage, they always had.

He remembered how the admiralty reacted when he and Jopson were first escorted into the building used as the admiralty's base of operations in the Whitehall district. James had wanted both of them there even though they both knew Jopson was a mess, and even though he didn’t think it was a good idea, and it wasn’t, he understood why James felt it important that Jopson be by his side, and it was important indeed, but that didn’t make it any less difficult.

**~ December 27th, 1850 ~**

_“Sir James, we understand you believe to have uncovered an important lead regarding the search for the missing Franklin’s Expedition?” came Parry’s voice._

_James nodded and offered a sad smile, “I’m afraid so, I know you have found my persistence in the continued search efforts tedious.”_

_It was William Beechey who cleared his throat, “Not at all, Sir James.. it is.. regrettable that there haven’t been enough funds to continue the searches, and with no sign of survivors...” he trailed off and James just nodded._

_“Well, fortunately… what I have found, or that is to say, who I have found, I believe will put the mystery to rest.”_

_“What are you talking about James?”_

_James looked back to the door waiting for Francis and Jopson to enter only to be left waiting for several seconds in silence before he looked back at the group of frowning men with a sheepish expression._

_“Gentlemen, I will be right back.” he gushed, ignoring Sir Edward Sabine’s infuriated _‘Do not waste our time’_ as he hurried to the door._

_He peered around the corner, his expression slightly agitated but all irritation left him like a fire being snuffed out, and that frustration quickly morphed into concern when he easily spotted Francis kneeling on the floor beside Jopson, who was babbling non-sense as tears ran down his face, he was shaking so violently he couldn’t even keep his legs beneath him._

_“Shh, Thomas it’s alright. You won’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to, all you may have to do is state your name, nothing more.”_

_“No.. no … can’t… I-I can’t… I can’t face them… I don’t… that creature.. they.. they’ll never believe us! I-I don’t want my family contacted.. its mandatory for them to have to contact if they claimed us all dead.. sir please I can’t...”_

_“Thomas, lad we’ve been through this several times, I have no intentions on telling them about that thing.. because yer absolutely right, they’ll think us mad. As for yer family Jopson, do they not deserve to know that yer alive? What about yer brother? Your sisters?”_

_“H-How are we going to keep secret something that killed twenty-seven men! I don’t want to face it! Its already hard enough living with the things I did… this is too much! I’m not ready for it!”_

_What was this ‘creature’ Jopson was going on about?_

_Francis looked up meeting his gaze with a tired sigh, he already saw the look of question on his face at some of the conversation and he waved his hand in a motion telling him he’d explain later before turning to Jopson again._

_“Lad, as far as they are to know the men died from sickness, starvation, and the elements. That is all they need to know, none of this is on us.”_

_“B-But I-I’ve seen things Sir! Things I want to go away! I don't want to see Le Vesconte eating John-mmng!” the younger man cried his voice shrill with absolute hysteria, and Francis clamped hand over the boy’s mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence, that and both James and he had clearly heard some of the men in the room murmuring softly having heard the noise._

_Jopson just sobbed miserably against the man's hand, he just wanted to die. He didn’t want to do any of this, he wanted to go find a hole lay there and wait for death to take him. Far better would it be than having to deal with the court marshal they all knew was inevitable, better than having to inform the men that everyone besides the two of them were dead, including Edward, better than having to tell the men the horrible things that had gone on in that camp, the awful things he’d done to survive._

_Crozier leaned in whispering softly but firmly into the man’s ear, letting some of rough on deck command lace into his words. “Mr Jopson, you listen to me right now! Be quiet. Do not speak one word of the mutiny, the creature, and absolutely not a word about what the men were doing in the end. Do you understand me?”_

_When he got a muffled response and a nod, Francis let go and stood, hauling the young man up to his feet roughly by his collar, clearly he hoped to keep the boy quiet through intimidation, and by god it seemed to be working, the man’s pale eyes reminded James of a wounded doe they were so wide with fright, tears had gathered within them and the lad was trying so desperately to blink them back._

_As he looked at Francis his heart hurt, he was clearly able to see the miserable guilt that now lay in his old friend’s eyes, deeply uncomfortable with the only approach that actually seemed to be successful in getting his crewman under control._

_Francis gave him a simple nod telling him that they were ready, and he led the two men into the room where the board members were waiting impatiently._

_“Gentlemen.” he called to get the the men’s attention, and attention is definitely what he got._

_“How dare you waste our ti-” Sabine’s voice trailed off and is mouth hung open in silent shock, and as James looked around he could see most of the other men were doing the same._

_“C-Captain Crozier… my friend… is that you?” Parry’s startled voice sounded after several minutes of tense silence._

_“Aye, Sir, and Petty Officer Thomas Jopson.” Francis replied, laying his hand briefly on the former steward’s shoulder. He would ensure Jopson got that promotion later, right now he needed to play kiss ass and behave himself, something he was so very much inclined not to do._

_“Good God man! Where have you been? What happened?” Hamilton immediately pelted him with the questions he knew would be asked of him._

_“Well, if I may start from the beginning.”_

_Parry nodded in agreement motioning towards the opposite end of the table where there were still a few empty chairs. “Yes, yes of course Captain, please gentlemen sit.”_

_As Francis started towards the table he noticed how Jopson froze up, eyes wide and terrified, but James let out a sigh and edged him forward with a gentle hand between his shoulder blades._

_The young man looked at him with desperate pleading eyes shaking his head insistently._

_“Mr Jopson, get up here.” he barked out the order and the young man hung his head and bit his bottom lip anxiously, but sulked over to sit in the chair next to him._

_“What’s the matter with him?” Sir John Richardson inquired, sizing the young man up obviously curious as to his erratic behavior._

_“You’ll have to forgive Mr Jopson, Sir John, he’s just nervous. He is still recovering from a severe case of scurvy and getting used to civilization again. We haven’t been back to England that terribly long.”_

_Richardson nodded quietly and gestured towards him, a silent command for him to start his explanation._

_“We wintered on Beechey Island in the winter of 1845 to 1846 then we moved forward under the command of Sir John Franklin, regrettably Erebus suffered a.. misfortune, she struck a growler that got wedged in her propellers. Despite the protests of both Terror’s Ice Master Thomas Blanky and myself, as well as a reluctant protest from Erebus’s Ice Master James Reid to continue both ships through the ice with Erebus being lame, Sir John decided to continue forward instead of the shared idea by both ice masters as well as myself to go for broke, and both ships were frozen in.”_

_As his captain continued speaking, Jopson started to tremble nervously he knew what was coming next. Crozier seemed to notice this out of the corner of his eye and he placed his hand on Thomas’s thigh giving it a mild squeeze as a reminder._

_“We remained frozen in since September 12th 1846, I took command of the voyage on the eleventh of June in 1847-”_

_“Why? What happened to-” George Back started only to be interrupted._

_“Killed, Sir.” Jopson uttered before he could help himself and Crozier squeezed his leg sharply making him jump and divert his eyes, “B-By a bear… th-they blend in with the snow so easily as I’m sure you all know...” he added quickly tears threatening to fall from his eyes._

_Crozier cleared his throat, “Thank you, Mr Jopson. Yes, unfortunately our beloved captain was taken by surprise by one of those beasts. We managed to kill it, but he had been mauled severely and the combined efforts of Dr Stephen Stanely, Dr Alexander McDonald, and Dr John Peddie, sadly were not enough to save him.”_

_“Damn!” Back growled slamming his fist upon the table top._

_“Please, Francis continue.” Parry urged._

_“Both ships remained frozen in and our provisions were running low. We had also learned that well over half of Goldner’s canned provisions were spoiled or inedible due to the lead in the soldering. It had started to make the men very sick. Commander Fitzjames and myself gave the order to abandon ship on April 22nd 1848 with the intention of walking out of there toward the mouth of Back’s River with what provisions we had left, our hope was to find help, but of course the provisions only lasted so long between 105 men marching across the tundra, eventually we did run out.”_

_James swallowed thickly as he listened patiently, he knew something was a miss, why would Francis travel all those hard miles hauling the sledges instead of going towards Boothia?_

_Could this have something to do with what he and Jopson were talking about? That creature?_

_He would have to ask about it later._

_“By that point however, most of the men save for a small few had died from the exposure to the elements, scurvy and other ailments, some from infected amputations, others from accidents that could not have been prevented. Commander Fitzjames was one such, casualty to scurvy as much as it pains me to admit. Unfortunately… in the end, we are the only two that survived, Mr Jopson just barely, we had gotten separated at one point and I found the lad on death’s door, how he managed to survive so long with scurvy to that degree is still a mystery to both of us.”_

_Crozier watched as William Parry’s eyes focused on Jopson, who was visibly trembling beside him, he didn’t have to look at him to know this, he could feel the lad’s legs quivering against his knees, then shifted to meet his gaze the two shared a look of understanding, his old friend could read just by the expression in his eyes that some very, awful, unspeakable things, had occurred in the end, and Francis gave the slightest nod of appreciation when the man said nothing clearly not wanting to cause him any further grief._

_He had seen men coming back from the arctic, showing clear signs of mental and emotional trauma for doing horrible, unfathomable things just to survive. Cannibalism was one of those things that made a mess out of a sailor who had experienced, witnessed, or even resorted to such things when they were desperately trying to survive._

_No, William Parry truly had no intention of making the younger man more miserable than he likely already was._

_However despite this, Francis was getting nervous now, he did not like how Sir John Richardson was studying Jopson with a knowing gaze, almost as if he could tell they were hiding something. It was clearly obvious, and more than likely suspicious at that how terrified his steward was. Though Francis knew deep down that his intimidation tactic hadn’t caused the boy to be fearful of him, it seemed to have definitely reinforced his constant fear from the the immense trauma he’d suffered in that heartless plain of cold._

_‘God dammit!’_

_His fears were confirmed when Richardson spoke looking directly at Jopson who tried to avoid his intense stare,_

_“Son, look at me.” he ordered his voice calm and composed but held the ever present authoritative tone, one that Francis knew even himself would have to follow if it were directed at him._

_Swallowing nervously Thomas looked up at him, his eyes wild with a frenzy of emotions._

_“What, are you so afraid of?”_

_Crozier felt his blood run cold and Jopson looked at him with a pleading stare for help, clearly not knowing what to say or do. “He was-”_

_“Silence Captain! I wish to hear what this sailor has to say, because there is clearly something going on.” Richardson snarled fiercely._

_All color left Jopson’s face, Francis watched as the tears sprang forth and he started sobbing, and he shot up from his chair glaring through his tears at Sir John Richardson._

_Oh Christ, Thomas please don’t…_

_“E-Everything, Sir!” the lad cried, his voice crackled as he’d managed to choke back his sobs to shout angrily._

_Everyone was stunned to silence and Crozier truly thought he’d faint from shock and horror at the fact that the young man had just raised his voice at an admiral._

_Jopson started to speak again but it was proving difficult for him because his speech was impaired heavily by hysterical sobs._

_“T-That place! That horrible.. h-horrible place… I can lay under.. a warm sun in warm weather.. and I-I still feel cold! I-I don’t think I’ll ever feel warmth again! I pile myself… under blankets… and sweaters underneath blankets an… and I am still freezing! I am… w-was a gentleman’s steward and I.. I loved it … very much.. and th-that place of absolute hell on Earth.. i-it took everything from me! M-My dignity.. my friends… my work-”_

_He emphasized this by lifting his hands up for full display, allowing the men to study how his left hand was missing his ring finger and pinky and the right hand was missing half of his middle finger and the pinky on that hand as well._

_Despite his heart swelling with pride at the lad’s courage he knew he needed to get the lad to back off before he got himself into trouble._

_“Thomas, hush lad, you’ve said plenty.” Carefully he tugged on his sleeve trying to get him to settle himself back in the chair beside him but to his surprise the boy yanked his hand away._

_“No Captain!” he sniffed, his tears were seeming to slow as he breathed in deeply his chest puffing in pertinacious anger as he squared Richardson up with his eyes,_

_“Do you know how.. how hard it is to shave the man you have served for almost almost a decade... someone who has also been a father figure and dear friend, soneone I admire greatly? You can’t! I can hardly even shave my own face! He did it for me! Do you know gentlemen, how humiliating that is!?”_

_Francis was stunned to silence so James quickly took the initiative, standing to move behind the younger man pulling on his shoulders gently to try to escort him out, he was too hysterical and he knew he was treading on thin ice._

_“And do not even let me get started on the scurvy! Do you know, Sir John, the horror one encounters when you feel blood dripping down your forehead or see it dripping off strands of your hair?! How badly you want to wash it because all you smell on your pillow every night is the horrid stench of your own blood, only to realize that you can’t because everything is frozen solid!?! To have your hair falling out in clumps, and your teeth hurting as you try so carefully to keep them from falling out? To watch something that one would only read about in in a horror story... as Commander Fitzjames gunshot wound from his Chinese sniper story opened up six years later and there was blood pouring out of him from it? Do any of you even know how that feels?!”_

_“Jopson, son come with me please.” James begged quietly but William Parry shook his head slightly at him, inclining his head back to his empty chair._

_Clearly the man was interested in the young lad’s rant, finally someone was telling Richardson off. God the man was such an arsehole. Plus it would probably do for the lad to get some of these things out of him, it was clear Francis hadn’t known some of these details by his reaction._

_Thomas continued, his voice now tearful and so awfully broken as he began softly._

_“Do you know Sir John, what it’s like.. to be... to be laid down so low... by a disease that does horrible.. horrible things to the body.. I am still to this day afraid to scrub my skin too hard in fear that my whole arm or body might end up covered in massive bruises. I-I still feel like my hair is not clean… I still worry about my teeth falling out.. it is a disease you learn to respect out of the sheer horror it inflicts...”_

_“W-We lost so many! On a voyage to a place where God abandoned us! Sir Franklin.. C-Commander Fitzjames.. Lieutenant Ed… Edward Little.. Lieutenant John Irving… Thomas Blanky.. Harry Goodsir... Dr McDonald… and so many more good men, so many friends whose lives cut short looking for a damn passage that if I may be frank, Sir, probably doesn’t even exist!”_

_“Thomas.” Francis rasped, trying once more to divert his attention and he was pleased when the lad finally lowered himself into his chair sniffling softly as the tears came again._

_“God abandoned us there… and… and.. I-I was hurt Sir… very badly… I… my life has become… a most terrifying nightmare… that I cannot wake up from… and.. and I’m scared.. I-I don’t want my family to know… I don’t want them.. t-to see how broken… I.. am from.. that h-horrible place…”_

**~ Present ~**

A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts, and with an excited smile he greeted both James and his wife at the door.

“Francis, you cranky Irish bastard!” James laughed, embracing him warmly and it was gratefully returned. “,Good to see you my friend.” he chuckled.

“Aye, and you as well. I must admit, I think this was a VERY good idea, indeed.”

Lady Ross greeted him with an equally warm embrace and a kiss on the cheek, “Francis, so nice to see you.”

“Ann, I trust you’ve been keeping this rascal in line?”

The woman laughed softly when James put his lip out in a pout, “As straight in line as he may ever be, dear.”

“I shall go get our guest.” James gushed, his grin held nothing but pure childish excitement as he hurried out to the coach they had come in.

“You better watch out, I think you’ll have trouble getting rid of James for more than a month at time. I think he’s unintentionally gotten attached after we picked him up. I must say Francis, when James told me of this idea, I thought him mad, but after picking the wee thing up. I have to agree with you, I think Thomas will be very pleased.”

**~ X X X ~**

Something long, wet, and warm running over his face is what woke him from his afternoon nap on Crozier’s couch.

He turned his face away in sleepy protest and heard hushed voices, one above him and the other somewhere in the room.

“Francis, quit. ‘m trying to sleep.”

An offended scoff above him caught his attention and a hand tilted his face back toward the wet… tongue? Was that a tongue!?

_‘What is Christ’s name is he-?!’_

His eyes shot open to find himself staring into big brown eyes and a dark furry face before a weight was dropped on his chest.

“W-What…?” he croaked feeling soft eager paws pressing into his collar bone and shoulders, and an ever persistent tongue continued to lap at his face.

It was a dog! Or a small one… it still had the distinct scent of puppy breath as it continued it’s playful assault.

“Oh. Well hello there, but it is rude you know to wake someone.” he admonished teasingly as he let his hands find and ruffle the small black furry mass who started to wag its tail happily.

Where did a puppy come from?

Above him he saw Sir James Ross staring over him with a wide grin on his ever so handsome face, and Francis was standing but a couple feet away from him and Lady Ann Ross stood beside the Irishman with a hand on his shoulder.

“I-I… Sir James? What is this?” he asked uncertainly giving the attentive puppy an awkward pat.

“It was Francis’s idea.” he chuckled softly.

He stared utterly confused, “I don’t understand...” he whispered softly.

Crozier approached and scooched the eager pup aside to place a kiss on his forehead making him blush slightly and soon the dog was upon him once again when Francis moved back, eagerly licking and whining softly at him.

He stroked the dark fur with both hands a smile forcing itself on his face.

“Happy birthday Thomas.”

Jopson’s eyes got as big as an owl’s and he bolted upright into a sitting position, picking up the pup in his arms so it wouldn’t tumble onto the ground from his abrupt movement.

He looked from the dog, to James, to Ann, and back to Francis.

“Y-You mean it’s… you got me….?”

Francis laughed heartily at the bewilderment on his face.

“Aye. You were telling me how you missed Neptune and I’d been aware that James knew a breeder. That’s a pure bred Newfoundland lad.”

Jopson just sat there with his mouth hanging open in shock


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER WILL HAVE A COUPLE WARNING
> 
> It will originally have some dubious consented sexual themes.
> 
> SEVERE alcohol abuse is mentioned here. 
> 
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

"Captain."

Francis turned his head at the voice, it was one he hadn't heard in… a long time now.

He was standing, facing the table… in the officer’s mess aboard Terror. 

Everything was the same as he remembered and he could help but stare in awe at the details of the room.

"Sir." that voice again.

Across the table he could see Lieutenant Edward Little, dressed in full navy uniform, epaulets dangling on his shoulders as he spoke to Lieutenant John Irving beside him. He could see… himself?, sipping on a glass of Allsopp’s staring with boredom at Captain Fitzjames across the table, the other man glaring daggers at him. 

His heart clenched tightly at the sight of his handsome lover.

It became clear to him that he'd seen all of this before... it was the second dinner Terror had hosted a couple weeks after Sir John's death that James and Lieutenant Le Vesconte had attended.

All the men’s mouths were moving in conversation but yet he couldn't hear the words.

"Here, Captain." Turning his head the other direction he saw another man sitting in a chair beside where Jopson stood patiently on that day, as he had so many others, waiting for any order he were to be given.

Francis felt his heart constrict tightly in his chest as he recognized the man.

It was, again, Edward Little… again? Only this one was ragged, beat down, the gold chains dangling off his face, but thankfully his skin wasn't blue, his wounds had long since healed, and the man offered him the faintest ghost of a smile, and a knuckled salute. “Captain.”

"Edward." he addressed the man softly as if afraid that if he spoke too loud he'd disappear.

"Its okay Captain, it doesn't hurt. Not any more." Edward offered, his eyes looked warm despite their sadness.

"Am I dreaming?" Francis asked stupidly, obviously he must be.

The response he received though, it blew him away.

"No. Forgive me, Sir, I know, I'm intruding your second sight."

Francis blinked mouth agape. Not a single person knew about the accursed second sight, not even James. 

"How did you know about that?"

"The Shamans passed from that land, Sir, they told me. They detected it somehow. Mr Blanky’s been communicating with them and he helped me attain their assistance in an attempt to get in touch with you.”

Francis stared, he didn’t understand any of this. Thomas? The lieutenant spoke as if they were still living somewhere else? 

But that was not possible… was it? No, no of course it wasn’t.

He watched as Edward ran his hand over one of Jopson's where he stood quietly, a sadness filled the poor man's eyes as his hand seemed to phase right through it and Thomas didn't even flinch, didn't look at him.

Crozier couldn't help himself, he couldn't handle the chain stuck in Edward's skin.

"Edward... did you do that?"

The other man averted his eyes, "No, Sir. It was not... a willing encounter, I will say that much."

Francis shook his head in disbelief, "The men… they did that to you..?"

A tense pause came over them as the lieutenant tried to find his voice again.

"Lieutenant Le Vesconte, Sir. He'd gone mad. It had been calm one moment, we were both on watch with our vast decrease in men. Henry had stood up claiming he had to go relieve himself, and I didn’t think anything of it, until he grabbed me from behind and I was hit with something in my condition… I blacked out easily. I came to in the middle of it, on the ground with a pistol shoved in my mouth while he continued to inflict the wounds upon me.”

Crozier stared at the man with no shortage of revulsion, visibly shaken from the tale.

“Sir, I try to hold no resentments, Henry was… very unwell. Similarly to John Morfin in the end. Thankfully Mr Johnson had awoke to relieve one of us from our watch, and he saw what he was doing to me. I.. put him out of his misery… but as for chains... they were so deep we were afraid to remove them… they got badly infected for a while but I pulled through.. barely."

“Jesus Christ Edward...” he muttered.

There was a long silence until Edward finally broke it.

"I am truly sorry, Sir."

"What in heaven for?"

Edward looked away ashamed, guilty, and that's when it occurred to him.

"I know lad, Jopson told me. I know it wasn't your wish to leave me there."

"I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth, Captain."

"I know son."

Another silence.

"Why are we here Edward?" he asked tiredly meeting the man's eyes.

"I needed to tell you some things, and I was to send Captain Fitzjames’s, love and affection as well. He misses you Sir."

Francis felt his throat constrict, "You will tell him that I love him dearly and I miss him as well?"

A warm smile and a knuckled salute, "Of course Sir."

"Does this have something to do with Thomas?"

Edward nodded, the gold chains clinking against each other.

"I loved him very much Sir, I still do."

He looked to the Thomas Jopson in the room who moved across the fill the glasses of both Irving and the other less destroyed version of Edward, and Crozier was able to notice now as Jopson leaned over him how he left the faintest of touches upon Edward's shoulder while they stared at each other as if they were star gazing.

"The man before you, the one speaking to you now, Sir... this isn't the man he loved..."

He gestured to the silent picture before him, "That is the man he loved, who deserved his love, not who I became in the end. He was frightened of me in the end, never able to look too long because of what Le Vesconte did, if he woke from a delirious sleep sometimes his assault would last for hours and he'd scream just from a touch."

Francis shook his head in silent outrage, he would hear no more of such tall.

"Belay that self-loathing at once Lieutenant!"

Swallowing hard Edward went silent.

"Regardless of yer appearance, he loved ye, and he would not still be alive if ye hadn't of fought so hard lad."

The mad gave a nod but he was clearly unconvinced.

"How did he fair, Sir? After I was gone?"

Francis shifted uncomfortably, wanting to be honest with him but at the same time he was confused, shouldn't he already know?

The man seemed to recognize his hesitation so he explained briefly.

"I died Sir, and believe it or not, even out of body… one isn't allowed to see the lives that carry on. It is most unfair. I only know he's still alive because I can't find him there with me. I have been able to feel his agony but I cannot see him "

"Please Captain, I need to know what happened to him after I was gone. Even.. Even if the details hurt me... I need to know."

Crozier just nodded before clearing his throat.

"He was... dying. Snow blind, starving, and very sick, lad."

Edward's eyes watered and he barely managed to ask ever so softly, "Was he scared?"

Images of Jopson's terrified, snowblinded stare flashed through his head and he cleared his throat.

"He was... very much..."

Edward looked down miserably.

Francis swallowed, not sure if he wanted to share the last part but Edward seemed to notice his falter and that there was something more. 

“What is it, Sir?” 

The older man cleared his throat a couple times, “He.. he was very, very sick son. Too weak to walk, he had resorted to cutting into the body that was closest to him.” 

Edward’s face paled slightly and he let out a breath, “That’s okay, I can forgive him for that, he made it that’s all that matters to me.” 

“I wish he understood that. After he’d healed and became more aware, he’s been riddled with guilt and shame for what he had to do to keep himself alive. He told me himself,-” he paused trying to think of the right words to say that would cause Edward the least amount of pain, ",-Lieutenant Jopson.. has never been the same. His grief... it runs so very deep son, he loves ye with every fiber of his being. It... has been a difficult past three years."

The younger man hung his head in shame, tears leaking slowly from his brown eyes.

"He lives with me in England."

A look of shock struck Edward's face and he looked up so quickly it caused his chains to clink loudly.

"What?"

"Sir James Ross, he found us in 1850, we were living with Silence's people. We made it out of that hell, but Thomas has never been the same. He suffered nerve damage to his hands and the trauma runs very deep. Despite being clearly unfit to testify during my court marshal, the admiralty forced him to do so. Not a word was mentioned about the beast... or the men's desperation in the end. His.. mental state was very fragile for a long time, he couldn’t even handle living with his family, he was too ashamed."

"I-I don't know what to say..." Edward whispered tears of both happiness at their rescue and sadness and anger at the state of his lover hit him very hard.

There was an awkward silence until finally he decided to speak.

“He’s still healing, but it’s been a slow process. Sir James Ross has been helping me keep an eye on him. The two of them have become good friends, and his friendship with James's wife is lifting. She adores him greatly.” 

Edward nodded, “I am glad he has people to help him. I.. I did the best I could. I was still sitting with him when I passed, I had closed my eyes for a moment… and.. I never woke up, not there at least,-” 

Crozier was confused, what on earth was the man talking about. 

"- ,Me and Fitzjames have spoken, Sir, several times after we departed that place, over the past few years. He mentioned something to me about two years ago... of feeling the sadness in your heart from his passing fade slightly, that it had strengthened to a similar state before he arrived in that plane of existence."

“Edward.. what?”

To his surprise Little just smiled warmly at him, “It is complicated Sir, and I still have trouble believing what everyone has experienced as well, but I will start by saying that Dr Goodsir was right Captain.. there was wonder in that place.”

Francis could recall the words that had come from the good doctor, and he also remembered that Edward Little had not been in that camp when they were said.

“The men, but they are-”

"Everyone is there Sir, James, Lieutenant Irving, Mr Blanky, Hartnell, Dr Goodsir, Lieutenant Hodgson, Lieutenant Le Vesconte, Sir John... even Mr Hickey and the creature. When a soul passes in that land where that creature once roamed, it moves to a different plane of existence, a white or sometimes black void."

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, was Edward saying that everyone was alive?

“No, Captain, we are very much gone… but in our state, Sir, it is neither a heaven nor hell.. yet it's not a torment of purgatory either. The only people to be seen are the men and creatures who died there. They look as they did when they died, but there is no more blood, no gore, there is no cold or madness. Mr Blanky still has his wooden leg, Sir John too, Mr Hickey has a massive scar in his abdomen from the beast. Some people get along other's don't. The creature is now more docile and tends to lay around most of the day ignoring us.”

The former captain was awestruck was the man serious? 

"Truly?"

Edward offered a slight nod as he focused his gaze on Jopson’s relaxed gaze. 

He couldn’t help his next words, “J-James…?” 

Little nodded with a faint smile. “Yes, Sir… he is among us. Dare I say he’s one of the happier of the bunch, he and Mr Blanky will talk for hours.” 

It was Francis’s turn to smile, he even chuckled softly. 

“It was actually he who greeted me when I arrived, I opened my eyes to see the Commander staring down at me, it was… very hard for me at first, to accept the fact that though I had intended to wake up beside Thomas… I died in my sleep, and he was left alone. I waited for him for.. a very long time, and it was Fitzjames who helped me accept that it hadn’t been Thomas’s time yet.. and that was okay.” 

Oh his heart was throbbing painfully for this poor man… he couldn’t even imagine having to be in.. such a place.

“Yes, it is almost.. peaceful and calming in a way... but some of us still struggle."

"How do you mean Lieutenant?"

When Little’s eyes downcast to the small side table he sat at, he looked troubled, as if struggling himself with his explanation.

"Those with connections left in your world, still feel their loved one's emotions. Family, friends, sweethearts... we can feel their mourning, happiness, love, and despair. Yet we do not know the state of them. The last image we were to ever see of them was before we died. We can feel them, but we can't see them. Hartnell on the other hand... John isn't there because he didn't pass in those lands. It took him a long time to accept that."

Yet again, Francis found himself blown away by this, shocked and mortified. 

Did that mean, that James had been able to feel his grief the whole time? Had felt his foster brother's?

Edward had felt Jopson's mental crisis and the unyielding agony in his heart?

Did Mr. Blanky feel his wife's mourning where he was?

Sir John felt both Sophia’s and Lady Jane's?

George Hodgson, his family he left at home?

John Irving felt his parent's, and before Edward joined him, his friend's as well?

All of them… felt their pain but yet they knew not why or how they were suffering?

That had to be torture.

"However, Mr Bridgens and Mr Peglar are very happy indeed." Edward chuckled softly.

He looked down in thought and a weak smile played upon his lips too.

"That's good, tell them I send them my best."

"Yes, Sir."

They both studied the dinner scene before them, Francis watching Captain Fitzjames and Edward, Jopson.

"What do you mean James felt something in my heart Edward?"

The lieutenant looked down his eyes sad but it was almost a happy sad, as if he was coming to terms with a change that he hurt from that needed to happen.

"I've felt it too, Sir, in Thomas. About a years ten months ago I think.. it can be hard to keep track of time.."

Francis pondered the information quietly trying to recall what would have been going on.

Then it hit him.

It was when he had moved Jopson into his house.

"Captain, I must ask a favor of you, Sir, I am ashamed to admit... that it is a very selfish request, one that I know is most unfair to burden you with."

When the older man said nothing Edward looked up, wiping his tears away he took a deep breath.

"I believe... Captain Fitzjames is right in his assumption... that what I felt, was his heart trying to allow him to love again. When he told me that he felt the same shift in you... it.. it gave me hope, Sir."

Francis was awestruck by the man's words, was he insinuating that Jopson...? That James believed he....?

"It's alright Francis."

He froze, his breath hitching in his throat at the painfully familiar voice.

As he turned around to look at Captain Fitzjames at the table where he sat still chatting away, a hand had lay itself heavily on his shoulder, he felt it so clearly as it turned him to face that voice.

There stood his James, as dashing as ever.

His black hair the same length, eyes still dark but no longer filled with blood, his face no longer bruised and covered in feverish sweat. Dressed in the same dark colored trousers and white sweater as he had before he died. The articles no longer stained with flecks of crimson.

"J-James..." his whisper could barely be heard as the man placed a large warm hand on his cheek.

"Francis."

Edward had turned his head to study the younger version of himself and Jopson, wanting to give them both privacy, but the older man could see how his eyes were so miserable and deeply while he cried softly.

The feeling of James's lips pressing against his own snapped him back to attention, those lips no longer cracked with dryness were once again so very soft.

His kiss felt so real. So loving, gentle, and longing, Francis felt the tears run hot down his face while he returned it needily.

The passion was eventually interrupted when a small emotional sob forced its way out against his love's eager lips. James pulled away leaning down to let his forehead rest against his, gentle fingers wiped the clear droplets away.

"Shh, don't cry Francis, I'm here."

He wrapped his arms around James's waist to pull him closer into an embrace and he felt his long arms return it before pulling him back at arms length.

Quietly he took his stump of a hand carefully between his own, inspecting it without a word, his eyes sad.

"I think the story behind this will be better than my-"

He groaned cutting him off irritably but also with a hint of tease.

"So help me, if you mention that Chinese sniper story again..."

Edward snorted from where he sat at the small side table, his chin resting in his hands where his elbows were propped up on the table surface, his tears still slid quietly down his face.

"Oh but Francis, you haven't heard the new parts yet, love." James teased with a pout.

His own smile fell and he looked away with a distant pain in his eyes, "I... saw the new parts myself..."

James offered a sympathetic look, "Yes... you did."

It took him a second before he could meet his eyes again and when he did James started to speak.

"The two of you have been through so much, you and Lieutenant Jopson. We've both felt it."

Francis nodded, "He's... he's broken.. that place broke him James. I.. I fear... there is nothing more I can do for him."

It was Edward who responded to his words this time.

"There is, Sir,-" he had to pause swallowing heavily to choke back a sob, "-..h-he loves you Captain."

All the color left Francis's face, and he looked at James who was looking at him rather smugly.

His fears were confirmed then.

Pained tears of guilt and shame trickled down his cheeks as he lowered his head, gazing at the wooden planks of the ship’s floorboards, but James took his face into his hands, cupping it tenderly while he used his thumbs to once again wipe his anguished tears away.

"You love him too Francis. I felt your heart sway long before Edward felt Jopson's do the same."

"I'm sorry James..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for my love. We are gone Francis, there is no betrayal or fault in loving again. I have come to peace with the idea of you being happy with someone else, because while our time together was much too short, I will always love you, and it is because of this that I just want you to be happy. We both do, and while Lieutenant Little shows more hurt at this realization, we both agree that if you two are happy together... that is all we could ever hope for."

At James's words, he wrapped his arms around the taller man, squeezing tightly the embrace which was once again returned.

Edward sniffled softly, before his broken voice sounded.

"It's not that simple though, I can feel Tom slipping somehow, his love wavers back and forth and I feel such fear and sadness all the time... I don't know what he is doing, Sir, but I fear he is very unwell. He might be unwilling to make his feelings known first... you'll have to help him accept that what he is feeling is okay, that I wouldn't be angry with him for falling in love again. He needs to understand that.. I’ll always love him… but it’s… i-it’s okay to let me go. Please... consider it a dead man's last request, help him understand that it's okay for him to be happy again."

James kissed him one last time before pulling free of his arms and walked over to Edward, helping the other man up.

"With Jopson unable to participate, I'll make you the promise to take care of Edward, Francis, but only you can take care of Thomas. You’re all he has now."

He swallowed thickly, understanding now why they had come to him.

"I'll always love you James."

Fitzjames smiled warmly as he gave Edward's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"I know Francis, as is the case for young Thomas, part of him will always love Edward, but please don't let that discourage you two from finding happiness."

He just nodded a couple more tears trickling down his cheeks.

"We must go now, I love you Francis."

Again he just nodded swallowing back his heart as it threatened to burst free.

Edward knocked his knuckles to his forehead in a final salute, a grateful smile on his face despite the tears still dripping into his beard.

"Goodbye Sir, it was an honor serving with you. I hope you know that."

There was so much more he wanted to ask so much more he wanted to say, but the time wasn't on their side.

"Farewell gentlemen. Please give my regards to everyone."

"Yes Sir." was the in unison response.

**~ X X X ~**

Francis bolted upright in bed panting heavily, his body covered in a cold sweat.

That... was not a dream... He could tell that just by the state he was in when he woke.

Body covered in sweat, breathing coming quick and desperate, the headache that was both painful and at the same time had another non-explainable feeling that he could never get used to.

A feeling that his mind wasn't his own, a sensation of violation to his thoughts as if it had been invaded.

No. That was most definitely not a dream. It had been a desperate last attempt of communication by people who had been taken too soon, a plea for help. An urgent push towards a direction he wasn't yet sure if he could will himself to go.

**~ One Month later~**

He hadn't been able to sleep tonight, his mind was too rampant with a frenzy of thoughts.

So here he sat in front of his fireplace, puffing away on his pipe while the young Newfoundland pup, that Jopson had fondly named Ned, slept quietly by his feet.

The past week or so had been very, very hard. It was nearing the anniversary of their return to England and neither he nor Jopson had been handling it well.

Jopson had been indulging heavily in drink, the strong stuff, that always turned him into either a weeping hysterical mess, or an angry and easily provoked storm cloud.

He couldn't help but wonder if maybe this was the slipping that Edward had felt. Maybe he’d been declining for quite some time without him realizing it.

Meanwhile, he found himself plagued by unwelcome, painful memories almost around the clock. A lot of his thoughts had been focused on the encounter he’d had with James and Lieutenant Little almost a month ago.

He was so very tempted to indulge in some of the spirits himself, but he didn't for he knew even one sip could quite possibly be his undoing.

The floorboards creaked quietly behind him and he turned looking over his shoulder, not all that surprised to see Jopson standing in his stockings, nightshirt, and the couple layers of sweaters he commonly wore over it, a silent coping mechanism that somehow made his body believe he was indeed warm despite his brain saying he was cold.

In one of his hands he clutched an empty bottle of whiskey as he wobbled on his feet.

He met the younger man's eyes and all at once the boy let out a shocked gasp, staring at him in awe, the bottle falling from his hand and breaking loudly on the floor.

Alarmed he quickly stood up to approach him, but stopped when Jopson did just that he trotted over to him until he stood right in front of him, their feet almost touching. An alcohol induced gaze staring at him intently with a sort of incredulity and overwhelming relief and they watered heavily. Thomas shook his head in silent shock, as if denying what was before his eyes. Beautiful pale eyes, that appeared to be in a very far away place, indeed.

Slowly trembling mangled hands reached up to carefully cup his face, fingers running through his whiskers.

"E-Edward...?" he whispered so soft he almost missed it.

Eyes widening in surprise he took a step back, "What? No lad, it's Francis Crozier, your… captain."

"You... You're here.. I-I have missed you so much…" the boy continued, not hearing him.

Gently he set his pipe down and took hold of the young man's chin firmly, "Jopson, wake up lad."

It was here that Thomas did something that both surprised him, and at the same time left him horrified by the fact that he found himself actually having to fight against the idea of encouraging the lad further.

What was it exactly?

It was when the lad pressed his lips against his, and brought his body flush against his, an obvious arousal poked firmly into his hip as the young man ground against him with a breathless, needy moan.

His felt his face growing hot as he pushed at the young man's chest pushing his advances back in alarm.

"Please, Edward I need you... you've made me wait so long... why did you leave?"

Thomas let out a sad sob and Crozier sat back down in his chair, with a frustrated groan.

Sitting quickly proved to be a big mistake as the lad crawled into the chair as well, legs splayed wide apart on either side of him as he straddled his hips.

"Thomas! Wake up!"

"Edward... please.. please touch me.. don't... don't you... do you not love me, anymore?" the young man started sobbing as soon as his drunken words were spoken aloud, his voice so lifeless and broken that Crozier found himself reduced to tears as he brushed uncooperative bangs behind the lad's ear before placing his hand heavily against his cheek.

"Oh lad.. o-of course he does… more than you’ll ever know.."

The boy was still crying as he pawed at his whiskers, and Francis could feel how the hips grinding against his own were starting to do wicked things to him.

"Please.. Please Edward.. touch me... kiss me... a-anything... y-you promised me... don't turn me away... the captain's gone... y-you are my everything..."

Tears trickled down Crozier's face, this was so unbearable. 

Jopson's true grief and misery leaking out of him like a sieve as he spoke to his lover long since passed, the pain ran through him so deeply, that it finally occurred to Francis, that he very well hadn't a clue until this moment how bad a shape Jopson had been in since he and Lady Silence found him.

"Thomas.. this isn't the answer... you need to wake up son, snap out of it."

"Please... please... Edward.. p-please... I-I just want you to love me again... I-I'm sorry that I-I cut into you... please j-just love me... touch me... strike me... anything... please.. j-just notice me... I cannot bear it any longer..." the boy sobbed his hands squeezing tightly around Crozier's remaining one as he ground his erection against his lower belly.

**_“There is, Sir… h-he loves you Captain.”_ **

Crozier swallowed hard, looking deep into those eyes full of an endless pain.

**_“I can feel Tom slipping somehow, his love wavers back and forth and I feel such fear and sadness all the time.”_ **

The poor boy was sobbing with despair, in his drunken state he wasn't able to understand that Edward was gone, he wasn't able to understand why Edward couldn't touch him any more, why he wouldn't touch him as he sat there begging in both voice and suffering tears begging him for attention of any kind. Negative or positive. It was so, so very heartbreaking. 

**_“I fear he is very unwell. He might be unwilling to make his feelings known first... you'll have to help him accept that what he is feeling is okay.”_ **

**__**

**__**

He hated himself for what he was about to do, he knew it was so... awful to take advantage of the hallucinating lad, but maybe... maybe it would calm the boy and.. he could explain himself later.

_**“He needs to understand that.. I’ll always love him… but it’s… i-it’s okay to let me go.”** _

Francis moved a trembling hand underneath Jopson's nightshirt, before whispering softly, "Get it out for me then."

Jopson let out a sob of relief, his lips pressing forcefully against his in a sign of grateful affection and Crozier had to resist claiming those velvety soft lips for himself, he wanted to keep some sort of self-restraint if he could. Even if this did help the boy move on, he wasn’t about to take full advantage of him if he wasn’t fully aware of what was going on. He couldn’t bring himself to be that cruel. If this led to themselves, coming to terms with their feelings for each other later, fine, but he refused to go any further with Jopson so pissed that he didn’t know who touched him and who wasn’t. 

Francis shucked the young man's nightshirt up, giving himself a better view and Jopson freed his erection carefully from his small clothes. It sprung up, standing proudly between the dark pubic hair, needy, and swollen painfully hard. The former captain couldn't stop his mouth from watering.

Wordlessly he wrapped his hand around the pulsating organ, it twitched within his hand and Jopson arched his back moaning an obscenely lewd noise that would have meant the end of a navy career or a hanging, were they aboard ship.

"Oh... Edward..."

Crozier swallowed wrapping his arm with his stump around the lad's waist to pull him closer as he stroked the boy with a firm yet gentle hand.

"E-Edward... I-I love you... I love you…" 

“He… he knows, lad. Oh by the god’s does he know...” he hushed him softly. 

This continued for several minutes and more, and it took all the willpower he had to force himself to continue his task, it was so difficult and some of his friend’s sobs were beautiful, but then some just broke his heart and when at last the young man came with tearful shout of his lover’s name only to collapse against him with loud sobs of despair, hatred, anger, and sorrow, he let his own tears fall as he guided his head to his shoulder. 

“C-Come back… come back to me… please..…” 

This. Was. Hell. 

It was, it truly was… this was so unbearable and he was at a loss for what to do anymore. 

He choked on a sob himself and he rested his cheek on the head, feeling the soft hair against his face his tears dripping into it. 

This. Had. To stop.

“Come back to me Edward… c-come back...” the boy whimpered softly. 

Mustering up as much courage as he could at this point, he pulled him back holding him at arms length he gripped his chin tightly as he stared those sparkling pale eyes with an fierce intensity. 

“Edward is gone Thomas!” he barked, his voice coming more loudly than he’d intended but thankfully.. and unfortunately because he didn’t know how the young man was going to react to their… physical situation, it seemed to snap him out of his hallucinations somewhat. 

“Edward. He… he is gone lad, and he is not coming back.” 

As he had expected, the younger man started to become aware of the situation, staring down at the way he had straddled his captain’s hips and his nightshirt that had been moved slightly his now limp member still smeared with spend, then back up to his face.

He sat there absolutely petrified as he stared into his blue eyes.

Francis felt the tears pricking at his own eyes, and he couldn’t take it, he just wanted this endless cycle of misery to cease. It was tearing them both apart and it… it needed to stop. 

“Edward is gone. James… James is gone. They are both gone, Thomas, and no amount of tears, screams, or drink will make them come back. I can’t bear this anymore lad, I love you.” 

Jopson sat there, mouth gaping like a fish out of water and his tears only multiplied.

Crozier moved his hand, letting it rest against the young man’s chest, he could feel the frantic beating of his heart as he stumbled over his words. “Sir… I-I…” 

“I know.. I know you feel it to lad. I can feel it. I’ve seen the looks. I’ve heard your cries when you think I’m not awake down the hall.” 

There was silence for a long time until finally the young man spoke, his voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it. “I-I’m scared, Sir…” 

“Aye. I know lad.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want to forget him. I-I was everything to him.. shouldn’t… isn’t it unfair that he’s.. he’s not the same for me anymore…?” 

And there it was. There was the confession, the source of all this fucking madness that had been about his house since he’d moved the boy here. This was the whole problem right here, laying in those broken words spoken by a voice that was even more broken.

He gently brought his hand to the back of Thomas’s head and pulled him in so he could lay a sympathetic kiss against his lips, they tasted heavily of salt from all his tears.

Thomas’s was still crying, god it seemed like it’d been months since he’d seen the boy without tears in his eyes, but he did feel the wet lips move the slightest bit against his, a small sob forcing its way free causing their lips to part. 

“Edward wouldn’t think it unfair at all. He would want you to find a new meaning, Thomas. James would want the same for me, and I think, truly, that wherever they may be, James would find solace in knowing that I found that meaning in you.” he breathed before and pulled him into another gentle kiss, feeling those lips tremble against his own as they responded, and the tears on the boy’s face trickling down between both of their lips.

Slowly he felt the young man’s hands reach up again, the odd digits resting upon his face and Francis couldn’t help noticing, even if he wanted to, how much he thought the boy’s kiss now felt like a final desperate plea for help. 

A plea to be put back together again, a plea for the chaos inside his mind to cease, a plea for Edward’s forgiveness, a plea to have his life given back to him after it had been long lost to overwhelming grief, heartbreak, and the horrific things that he had endured in that cold arctic wasteland. 

Most of all it was a plea for love, for meaning.

It was.. most definitely a plea. 

Silently Thomas broke the kiss and instead let his head rest upon his shoulder, just holding him tightly and he did the same. They sat like that for a long time, even after Francis was aware the boy had succumbed to his exhaustion. 

He would stay here until he woke up the next morning, of that he could promise, he reached over to the stand and picked up his pipe still smoking ever so faintly and brought it to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been working on this all day and I've been crying for two straight hours.
> 
> This chapter clearly had me doing some different things, a bit experimental. I suddenly had this idea, remembering Goodsir's comment about there being something magical about the land in which they were trapped and I had this idea...
> 
> What if I turned afterlife in this place into a new plane of existence? Something that only people who died in these lands were trapped in. It's not quite a good place but its definitely not a bad place either. And this is where it ended up, call it corny if you will but I am actually quite proud of this idea and bite me if you don't. 
> 
> I also wanted an instance for Crozier to be able to encounter Edward somehow and it not being a dream, and then I was like... holy shit... maybe I can make this work... and this is what happened. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, feedback is always welcome because I would quite like to know what people thought of the idea.
> 
> This last scene killed me writing it and I am going to go continue to cry now, bye. 
> 
> Of course this isn't the end of the story, I still have every intent to keep it moving. There's a lot of things I still wanted to show with it, mainly Edward and Jopson's story of trying to survive the horrors that happened after he brought him to the camp, and Crozier's struggle to keep Jopson alive after the rescue, and of course the events that took place upon their return. So all of these things will still be tied into this story, in between the current events.


	7. Chapter 7

When Thomas awoke the next morning he realized for the first time in a very, very long time he felt warm.

For so long he'd been cold, all he could feel was that horrible arctic chill.

Now, for the first time since those horrible last weeks with Edward.. he felt warmth upon his skin and inside his body.

It made him want to cry.

He could hear the steady thrum of a heartbeat where his head rest, and he let his eyes slip open, finding himself nestled into Crozier’s lap as the man sat in his chair near the hearth.

Francis was snoring softly, his head tilted to the side, and his pipe was set on the side table again. Thomas could feel the fuzz that covered his captain’s chest against his cheek. The man had removed his own nightshirt at some point, likely gotten too hot judging by the way the window was open across the room. He knew the retired captain tended to get overheated rather easily since they had returned. So used was he to the harsh cold from the ice it had made, warm summer weather, near unbearable and sometimes provoked nausea. 

Jopson noted how the older man had draped the blanket, normally hung on the back of the chair, over his body as well, the knit fabric tucked around his middle and sides while the remaining length of it pooled down around the man’s stocking clad feet.

Warmth. 

It was the captain radiating that warmth.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he remembered so clearly Edward laying next to him bare chested as they both shivered beneath blankets.. even body heat had no effect anymore in the end. He’d been able to feel the heat that had once branched heavily off his lover’s body, as it had dwindled to barely more than a flicker of warmth. Both of their bodies had been getting weaker and weaker, and it.. probably.. he didn’t know specifically how long it had been, but he knew it hadn’t been long afterwards that Edward died.. he only knew this because he had come down with moderate snow blindness five days before his love had passed next to him. 

Swallowing heavily he managed to force the tears back, and looked toward Ned who watching a bird out the window.

Now as he lay there in the captain’s arms, it was… alarming to him, how long it had been since he’d actually felt warmth. 

Had this been one of the things that had drawn Captain Fitzjames to Captain Crozier? The soothing, safe sanctuary of warmth the man’s strong arms provided? 

James Fitzjames.

He pictured their dashing young captain. Beautiful, envious black hair, dark eyes, taller than most men, his neat well groomed features, a handsome face with a smile that could melt the ice would the world have let him. The man that Captain Crozier had loved, and painfully, granted a mercy, when he’d quite literally, fell apart from scurvy.

Scurvy.

Just the thought of the word made a shudder run up his spine.

It was a horrible... horrible disease and it still had an effect on his head, it made him scared of everything.

His teeth falling out if he bit into a piece of meat, or brushed them too hard. Clumps of his hair falling were he to comb it regularly. Waking up one day covered in bruises. Undressing one day to find the scar on his leg gaping and pouring red onto the floor. To this day he couldn't get the taste of blood off his tongue, it was forever burned into his senses.

Then there was meat.

He ABSOLUTELY hated meat anymore. It.. it's texture reminded him of what he'd done.. the taste of human flesh... Edward's flesh, that he'd consumed while in that place of hell.

"Shh.. what's the matter Thomas?"

The captain's voice startled him and he looked up at peering blue eyes in confusion.

"Ye be trembling lad."

"Oh... I was just thinking, Sir... I'm sorry if I woke you."

Francis placed a gentle kiss to his cheek and Thomas couldn't help but flinch slightly, uncertainty still coursed through him.

"Anything in particular?"

"Scurvy." he answered honestly, laying his head against his captain's broad chest.

Francis had tensed slightly but relaxed a few moments later and Jopson felt strong arms wrap around him pulling him closer into a snuggling embrace.

“It…it still bothers me.” he admitted uncomfortably after a while. 

His captain let out a small ‘hm’ before he spoke, "Its a horrific experience lad, not a soul could blame ye for still feeling the effects long after it’s been taken care of. I think your words to Richardson were a prime example as to why so many sailors struggle internally in its aftermath.” 

A silence settled over them as they each sat, both with very different thoughts flooding as the previous night’s intense emotional strain still hovering heavily in a thick, suffocating smog. 

Thomas was thinking deeply on how unfair everything in the world seemed now. 

There were a great many things left unsaid to so many people.

He’d never told a soul about some of the awful things that they had endured, the really bad ones that had made Thomas lose any faith he had remaining, the horrendous things that occurred in the captain’s absence… he’d not even told Crozier himself. 

Every single one of them were forced to make bad decisions in that place, no one was given a mercy when it cam down to it, and Thomas knew that Crozier was aware of this, the poor man having had to make a great many himself. He knew that the captain could have helped him through all his despair, he’d been trying to for so long, and he was grateful. 

Despite this he’d never been able to bring himself to share, so he never had. 

Never gave an explanation to the chains that had been gored into his love’s face... 

Never told him about poor Le Vesconte’s madness, after all in the end they’d had gone mad in some way… or how much he hated the man for what he did to Edward… and him...

Never told him how there had been so many times he had wanted to just run off and die in his hopelessness, h ow he’d tried a couple times only for Edward to find him and drag him back kicking and screaming obscenities...

Never had told him how Mr Sinclair had tried to murder him in his weakened state one night when Edward was on watch. How bad that had scared him. 

Never shared that the sound of bones being cracked open now rang in his ears every time he heard a door lock. 

Never told him that Edward had killed the last man before them, he couldn’t remember his name any more, just that he’d murdered him in a fit of unhinged rage... or told the captain how he’d almost killed him when he tried to get the man to stop plunging the knife over and over again into the seaman’s chest long after he was dead. 

There were so many things that he should have told the man so he could help him address the issues, but in a way he felt he deserved these things, that he deserved to be so unhappy after he had lived and Edward had not. 

The only thing he’d really offered was that everyone there in the end had been guilty of eating the flesh of their fallen companions, including Edward… and he didn’t even need to speak for himself, Crozier had seen it with his own eyes. 

John Irving. He never got to tell him how much he had enjoyed his passion for the Lord, how much comfort it had brought him. 

Mr Blanky. He wished now he could hug the man and thank him for all the laughs, whether appropriate or not so, the not so’s often ending with him getting scolded by the captain, much to Blanky’s amusement. 

Commander Fitzjames. He wished he could thank him for his kindness and for how much he had helped their captain find his light in life. How much it had meant to him that he had been there for a friend he held so dear. He wished he could apologize to the man. Why? He... he didn’t know himself, he just felt like he owed him one. Maybe it was for stealing the captain’s heart when it had clearly belonged to him. 

Edward Little. He wished so very badly to tell the man how much he loved him. As if all the _‘I love yous’_ that had ever been uttered to the lieutenant had never been good enough. He would tell him how beautiful he had been… even after Le Vesconte’s brutal attack. He’d tell him over and over again why he loved him and why he’d fallen for him. He’d tell him he loved him til the day he died.

All opportunities long passed. 

There was no more faith, no more inappropriate laughter, no more light in the captain, and no more _‘I love yous’_.

Everything was so unfair. 

Crozier heaved a sigh, snapping him from his thoughts. 

“Lad, I… I need to tell you something...” his voice came as something so uncertain as if he wasn’t sure if what he had to say was really something to be spoken aloud.

At first he had expected the man to start talking about their loves long since passed and why they should be happy together in that way if they both reciprocated each others feelings, but as he looked into those blue eyes he could see something unfamiliar to him.

It was something akin to fear, disappointment, a discomfort… it wasn’t reassuring.

“Sir?” 

“What I am about to tell you is.. hard to talk about, very personal.. and I have never mentioned it to anyone… not even Fitzjames.” 

Jopson frowned but he offered a nod, he couldn’t understand what could be so personal that he hadn’t shared it with Erebus’s captain.. especially with them being involved. 

Then again, there were some things he hadn't shared with Edward... he was certain of that.

“I shan’t say a word, Sir.” 

Francis nodded, thinking carefully how he should word what he needed to say. He wasn’t sure if it was wise to reveal such a thing as it was. 

“Ever since I was a boy, there was something different about me. I could.. see things that others could not, things that I wasn’t meant to.” 

**~ - - - ~**

By the end of his tale he could feel Jopson was staring at him, and he couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, eyes that he knew would be looking at him like he was mad, like he should be locked away and never released, of disturbance and accusation. 

He certainly wasn’t expecting to hear the lad speak to him with… a fondness? “I am relieved, Sir.” 

To his surprise his eyes met with a loving, gentle smile of nothing but admiration. 

“What?” he was surprised himself by how small his own shocked voice came. 

“It is… calming, Sir. To know that you still trust me enough to share such burdens with.” 

Burdens? Had the lad heard him correctly he just admitted having something most would deem witchcraft!

Then again what he had to say next that very well might change the lad’s mind. 

“I must confess though, Sir… that I was already aware of this uniqueness.” 

Francis’s felt like his head was going to explode. 

“H-How… but I-I… I’ve never shared this with anyone!” 

Jopson looked away he looked almost timid with the light blush on his face, as if he’d been caught doing something he should not have been. 

“During your withdrawals, Francis, you were delirious and there… were a couple instances I think you forgot I had been sleeping in the next room in the great cabin. You were mentioning things about Moira and not wanting to have this ‘Second Sight’. I never spoke a word of it to anyone, Sir. Though I did ask Mr Bridgens if he’d heard of such a thing, and he had though he had very scarce knowledge, I had enough to piece it together.” 

Crozier just gaped at him in awe, and after a while Jopson started to get uncomfortable immediately gushing, “Sir… I apologize if I was out of line, I was just curious what it meant, I never bugged you about it because.. I didn’t… it sounded like a personal battle for you.” 

Swallowing he shook his head, “No.. No, Thomas… you.. I am just surprised that you never said anything.. or at least… thought less of me...” 

To this the young man let his head rest against his chest again, uttering very softly in a voice full of affection, “I could never think anything less of you Francis.” 

As he stared down at his former steward, he pondered if he really wanted to tell the young man the rest of the story, the reason why he’d brought up the accursed Second Sight in the first place. 

Was it fair? Was it fair to bring up Edward and James after last night? Even if to bring him the reassurance that Edward still loved him, but he wanted him to move on?

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to reveal to the lad that the all the men, their lovers… they were trapped in some in-between. 

No. No that part he didn’t want to share. That he concluded, wouldn’t be fair. Even if both James and Little said that there was no suffering, he knew Jopson would think Edward was just saying that to save his feelings. He would think the worst, it was just how he’d become after everything that had happened. 

_’Edward’s words… though...’_

“I-I… Thomas there’s more...” he swallowed tears starting to gather in his eyes. 

Jopson peered up at him curiously a small amiable smile still on his face. 

Francis swallowed and shook his head, he couldn’t do it.

“I am glad you do not think me mad.” 

Jopson just smiled kindly and lay his head back against him and Francis looked out the window across the room. 

“There are a great many things I should have told you, Sir.” 

He felt the older man’s eyes peering down at him silently, and he had to take a deep breath before he could continue. 

“I haven’t been fully honest with you Captain, about what happened to us.” 

To his surprise Francis placed a kiss on his forehead and pulled him closer, his next words were so sincere and pacifying. 

“I already figured as much, and that is your right. You needn’t tell me a thing Lieutenant. Not til yer ready.”


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

**~ October 24th, 1848 ~**

* * *

Edward was freezing.

Cold...

It was so unbearably cold...

As he watched his love tremble within the nest of blankets a feeling of dread took hold of him.

It was so, so unbearably cold.

With the Arctic winter now only in its third week of beginning, the cold had come in without warning.

The snow had started six days ago, and just the sight of it's white powdery appearance had sent Tom into an uncontrollable panic.

On the third day of howling winds and billowing snow, something inside his poor love had snapped, and he had run off without a word while he had been sleeping.

When he had woken to find Thomas not on watch, not even in the camp, he had panicked, grabbed his pistol, those annoying wire snow goggles, yanked on all his layers, and began searching in hopes to find him.

Find him he did, and it had damn near broken him when he did so.

* * *

**~ Memory ~**

* * *

"Thomas!" his voice crackled from his dry throat.

It was so cold! What was he thinking running out here in this!?!

He made his way up a small crest of of ice, and his heart fell when his eyes spotted the blue great coat he had... borrowed from Le Vesconte. It was much too big for Thomas, Henry had been bigger than he, but they had to make use of everything.

Jopson was kneeling in the snow beside a pressure ridge that had a hollowed out bit at the bottom.

He was looking down at something and once Edward was close enough, he could see a wounded Arctic fox, whimpering, snarling, and whining as it tried to rise.

Thomas was crying. Why? It would mean they had something to eat besides... fallen companions.

He was about to ask when he heard several small whines from the hollow in the pressure ridge, and it was now that he saw two very young... what did they call baby foxes again? Kites? No, that wasn't right. He couldn't remember things very well anymore.

"Tom?" he called softly lifting his goggles up a little bit.

"I-I didn't know it had kits..."

_'Kits! Yes that's what they are called! Thank you love!'_

"Oh.. well, that's okay Thomas. You couldn't have known." he stated softly.

His love sobbed brokenly, insistently shaking his head.

"W-Who will.. take care of them now? They h-have.. no one. It's my fault..."

The man he fell so very hard for was breaking more and more every day. The Thomas Jopson he knew, while he loved animals, would never have wept over something like this, he knew how cruel the world was... they both did.

He could feel tears burning in his eyes, "Tommy.. they'll be fine."

"G-God abandoned them..."

"Thomas..."

"God abandoned the captain..."

The reply stunned him to absolute silence.

"God abandoned him... abandoned him just like God abandoned us..."

* * *

**~ End Memory ~**

* * *

Half-way through the trek back Tom had started having difficulty with his eyes and eventually he'd had to rely on him for guidance.

Of course having snow-blindness once before, Edward already knew what it was.

"Edward?"

The sweet soft voice, now broken with a hoarse rasp, snapped him from his thoughts.

"Yes Thomas?"

A silence before he got his answer. "Just wanted to make sure..."

Edward's heart fluttered, he patted Thomas's thigh lovingly.

"Thomas Jopson, I love thee, I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

His love let out a small appreciative noise turning to look in his direction, eyes still covered with the strip of cloth he had used to cover his sun damaged eyes.

"I love you too Edward." he whispered and let out a tired yawn.

He couldn't help but smile at the cute little noise, and he leaned down to kiss his forehead, being mindful of the metal chains that could freeze to his love's skin instantly if he wasn't careful.

"Get some rest Thomas, I'll be here." he said letting his hand come to rest on his lover's cheek.

Jopson just nodded. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.

Edward had sat there for about two hours in that unbearable cold when he felt sleep calling to him.

There hadn't been a single thing spotted in months... well besides those foxes...

Surely, he could rest his eyes for a little while... then he'd have to see about food.

Exhausted and finding the plan appropriate, he let his eyes slide closed, falling asleep not long after.

* * *

Edward felt warm.

Warmth.

Warmth...

He hadn't felt such a sensation in so long... it almost felt as wrong as it did pleasing.

He could hear humming.

A man humming.

But it was wrong.

That wasn't Jopson's beautiful voice humming the melody.

Something was very wrong...

"At ease Lieutenant, all is well."

That voice! It was... Commander Fitzjames?

Very slowly he opened his eyes to find himself seeing nothing but white. He was laying on his back on the... ground? What... what was going on?!?

Indeed. Commander Fitzjames sat next to him.

"You made it! Good to see you, sailor."

Edward gawked and his mouth opened to speak, but he couldn't find the words, happy to see the dashing captain... but uncertain why he was.

Fitzjames rose to his feet and extended a hand to help him up, which he took after a moment of hesitance.

"Sir, I-"

Out of nowhere an unstoppable wave of panic rushed over him, and he wanted to curl into a ball screaming and crying!

This... This feeling.... these emotions... somehow they didn't feel like his own, yet it was somehow projected onto him. It was so intense that his entire body shook, his legs gave out dropping him to his knees, tears of defeat leaked from his eyes as he clutched his head tightly.

The only thing on his mind despite this episode was a name.

Thomas.

He could vaguely feel Fitzjames rubbing his back and smoothing back his hair now covered with sweat.

"Why.... W-What is this....!?!" he screeched trying not to break down sobbing.

Fitzjames took his face into his hands being mindful of the chains.

"Oh.. I know, I know... it takes time to get used to. Shh... Shh... deep breathes Edward. It'll pass once he settles. I wager he woke up and this will be the worst of it."

His attention earned, he looked at Fitzjames in silent horror.

"W-Who!? Where am I!?!"

* * *

**~ The Arctic ~**

* * *

He had stirred from his slumber to feel Edward's hand resting on the side of his face as he sat on watch.

The hand it was freezing... to an unnatural level... even for the cold of this place.

It woke him up instantly and he ripped the blindfold off, trying to squint through his snow-blindness. Though he knew Edward wanted him to keep his eyes covered but he didn't care at this point. He struggled into a sitting position, dragging a blanket to wrap around himself as he did, his teeth chattering as the blindingly white snow outside billowed around their tent.

"Ed..Edward?" he called for him softly voice crackling.

Silence.

He groped about blindly as he tried to locate Edward, but finally his fingers found his lover's great coat, he recognized the patch he'd made on the shoulder, that was now much too large for him. Feeling up the man's body, eventually he raised a frostbite mangled hand to his love's face and his mouth dropped open in silent horror, his bottom lip wavered as his eyes filled with tears.

"E-Ed...ward..." he croaked softly giving the older man a rough nudge.

Stillness.

Silence.

Coldness.

"L-Love...?" he tried again his hands started to tremble.

_'No...'_

Thomas let his hand slide down in gentle caresses down to his neck where he should feel a pulse.

Nothing.

He felt down his neck, shoulders, and arms until he stopped at his wrist. With a small despairing sob he grabbed the large cold hand carefully between his and turned it over. He put his fingers to it.

Nothing.

Within seconds, Third Lieutenant... No! He didn't want the promotion! Petty Officer Thomas Jopson felt his world shatter into a million tiny glass pieces that were set ablaze.

Alone.

He was alone.

There was no one else but him.

"E-Edward! No, no, please.. w-wake up!!" Jopson wailed, though his voice came small, cracked and broken by chattering teeth from exposure.

* * *

**~ The Void~**

* * *

"NO!! I have to go back!! He needs me damn it!!!" Edward screamed in fury staggering to his feet.

His whole body trembling with vertigo as his own outrage was clashing with unbearable rough waves of fear, his mind knew not what to process.

Commander Fitzjames looked at him sadly.

"You can't. I-I know it's hard..."

Edward started pacing, or more staggering like a drunkard as his body tried to function through all the chaos overloading the man's senses.

Even now after the time since he'd left Francis, he still didn't know how to explain the... phenomenon of having another person's emotions invading one's mind.

It was violating at it's worst and comforting at its best.

The feelings could be enough to cripple one's movements here, especially in the beginning as panic was something that had been most common with most of the men upon arriving in such a confusing place.

Edward was panting, his face flushed red with anger and hurt, his eyes looked like smoldering coals as he stopped abruptly, the chains dangling from his face chinking together as they swayed.

"Send me back! Send me back this instant!!"

* * *

**~ The Arctic ~**

* * *

"Y-You promised... that.. that you wouldn't..."

He couldn't even speak the words, instead he collapsed against Edward's cold body, his shoulders shook with loud, infuriated sobs of pure hopelessness.

Everyone was dead.

Everyone was dead.

Except him.

He was alone...

Alone in this horrible hell that had taken everything from him... taken everyone from him.

His friends. His captain. His lover.

Everyone.

Why couldn't he have died before Edward?

Wait! They had guns! He could...

No... No Edward burned them.. so that he couldn't... he'd tried earlier.

All they had was a pistol.. with only three bullets left.

But how was he to find the gun?! He couldn't see a thing just bleary white from his snow-blindness.

" Please... Please... d-don't leave me alone... oh God please... please wake up... E-Edward.. I need you... please..." he sobbed brokenly pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"Please... please... oh God.. please..."

* * *

**~ The Void ~**

* * *

All at once the smothering ocean of intense panic ceased, and Edward fell to his knees staring aimlessly at the white that was the ground here.

More tears began to trickle down his face, but these ones were different, they were tears of defeat, guilt, of a man beaten down by the cruelty of the hand he had been dealt. That they had all been dealt.

James watched as the man sat there on his knees, not moving, not making a sound.

It was never easy to watch a seaman come to this place, acceptance was so hard.

He placed a gentle hand on the lieutenant's shoulder kneeling before him.

"Am... Am I dead, Sir?" he finally whispered softly.

James offered to him a look of empathy and a nod. "Yes Edward."

The man sniffled and buried his face into his hands his body shook with loud sobs as grief threatened to swallow him whole and never spit him back out, "I-I'm sorry Thomas... I-I'm so.... very... very sorry... please forgive me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a filler because I was rather stuck. Plus I wanted to show an introduction to that mysterious plane Edward and James were talking about...


	9. Chapter 9

_August 3rd, 1851_

_Edward,_

_My beloved.. I miss you so very, very much. I have thought about you every day for three long years. The hole you left in my heart still weeps fresh with blood, though I am thankful that is the only thing that now bleeds._

_Words can never describe the horror of what happened to us, to the captain, to the men, the ships, in that awful place. I know it can't mean much as you are no longer here, but we made it Edward, made it home, the captain and I. Sadly, or I know you will find it unfortunate, I never returned to the Navy. Mostly because the memories are too painful, but I am not qualified for such work any longer. Captain Crozier retired, I live with him in England. My own family, it is too painful to be around them. Part of me knows it’s selfish and unfair for me to stay away from them, but at the same time I just feel like a burden._

_If I was granted but one wish, not only would I wish to still have you here, but it would be to remind you one last time why I fell in love with you._

_Edward Little, you are a good man. I know in the end you did not believe it but you still are._

_I miss your brown eyes and your dark chestnut hair. I miss your smile and your unruly sideburns. I miss the freckles on the end of your nose and the cleft in your chin. I miss your strong muscled embrace. I miss the curves of your calves and the hair on your chest, legs, arms and belly. I miss the soft velvety feel of your lips against mine and the jagged points of your canine teeth. I hate how I've forgotten what your laugh sounds like.... and I've begun to forget your voice.. all I remember now is that it was deep and soothing._

_Though, I suppose I should tell you why I am writing to you, it not after all, as if you can see this as it is, but I think the captain may be right, maybe it can help me heal. I love you Edward, that will never change. I love you so, so very much that it makes me want to scream because you are all I can think about but.. you’re gone… dead.. taken far too soon and nothing I can say or do will ever make that right. The time we spent together was wonderful, magical, and if I could relive it again, I’d do it in a heartbeat, time and time again._

_The captain and I, something has been forged between us and it’s… it has made the last few months very challenging indeed. I think, I love him Edward, he’s the only person on this Earth who knows on a.. personal level, what I have gone through, he was there after all. He suffered a broken heart after Captain Fitzjames, and he’s been able to help me._

_Many times I worried and I still do, that you may feel betrayed by this turn of events… because I told you once, several times in fact, that my heart belongs to you and only you, as it will forever, and then I turn around and throw it to the Captain. I pray that you don’t think ill of me… but at this point Edward, I have to do what is best for me and I think.. as painful as it is… I think it might be to say goodbye._

**Edward Little, my Beloved who hast lifted me  
** From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown  
And, in betwixt the languid ringlets blown  
A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully  
Shines out again, as all the angels see

**Before thy saving kiss, My own, my own  
** Who camest to me when the world was gone  
And I who looked for only God found thee  
I find thee; I am safe, and strong and glad

**As one who stands in dewless asphodel  
** Looks backward on the tedious time he had  
In the upper life so, I, with bosom-swell  
Make witness, here, between the good and bad  
That Love, as strong as Deat....

* * *

He couldn't do this!!

Thomas let out a shrill sob, putting the pen down as he buried his face in his arms and cried.

Why, why was he so weak he couldn’t even do this one thing without crying? Why couldn’t he just be done with it?

The man was dead, it wasn’t like he was going to read this!

He wanted to feel the man’s fingers on his skin. He wanted to run his hands through those wild whiskers. Wanted to kiss each and every freckle on the end of his nose. To stare into those brown eyes that had looked at him as if he were the greatest thing in the world, even though he knew he wasn’t, he was just a man. He wanted to remove the chains that had been cruelly mauled into his handsome face. Wanted to be wrapped in the man’s loving warm embrace and never let those arms leave him. To hear that beautiful laugh… or even that voice he’d forgotten despite the image and memory of the man he loved being so clear in his mind.

It was his fault after all, if he hadn’t gotten so sick… if Edward had just…

A whine beside him caught his attention and he felt Ned nudge at his knee affectionately, but he ignored it, continuing to cry out all the stirred up emotions caused by his letter to a dead man.

He should have known this was a bad idea.

* * *

It was getting late and he’d still not seen Thomas at all since shortly after supper, he said he was going to his room but usually he showed his face while he picked up a book in front of the fireplace.

However, he realized that he hadn’t been interrupted once, nor heard a sound.

That was odd.

Dog-earring a page, he set it down and stood with a grunt.

Quietly he made his way down the hall and found Jopson’s door half-way open and he could see Ned laying on the bed from what was already visible in the room.

The glow of candle light was coming from the far side of the room somewhere, he could tell by the shadows.

Reaching the door he pushed it open a bit more and peered inside, in search for his companion who had failed to show his company this evening.

Oh and he found him.

Jopson was sitting at the writing desk on the far side of the room, candle almost burned down to the wick, his head was resting in his arms and he was still for the most part besides the occasional rise and fall of his back as he breathed.

Asleep? Sitting at a desk, the poor lad’s back was going to hurt something fierce tomorrow if he stayed like that.

Glancing over at the young Newfoundland sprawled on the bed he clicked his cheek softly at it, “Off.”

With a sassy whine that Francis was more than certain, Jopson taught the dog to be cheeky, the dog clambered off and to the rug he normally slept on.

Silently he made his way over to the desk and was about to shake the former lieutenant before his foot rustled something on the floor.

Peering down he found three papers discarded onto the floor, clearly what the boy had been writing.

Curious he picked them up and shuffled them into order.

He did however hesitate when he realized who they were addressed to, maybe he should leave these alone, they were clearly personal… were those wet spots?

Indeed, he could see where drops of something had dripped onto each of the papers in different spots smudging the ink slightly.

Francis let his eyes scan the papers briefly, but soon he found himself reading in depth and he quickly understood what the drops had been, as he felt his own eyes burning with them as well by the time he finished the unfinished letter.

The older man had to wipe his eyes for a second after he set the papers down neatly on the desk and turned to his young friend.

He gave him a little shake but the man didn’t move, he just let out a tired groan and stirred slightly.

“Thomas.” he tried to rouse the man.

Nothing.

_’I’m getting too old to be carrying grown men.’_

Sighing he carefully gathered the young man off the chair and into his arms, to be quite honest he was surprised he was still asleep but he was, the pattern of his breathing didn’t lie.

_‘He probably cried himself exhausted.’_ he noted softly.

Quietly he moved them to the bed his companion had been occupying of his guest bedroom for almost a year now.

Just as he was about to lay the young man down he felt long arms snake around his neck, holding on tightly.

It was an unspoken communication between the two of them, one that he remembered very well from the time they were on Enterprise after Ross had found them. It was what Jopson had done when he wanted him to sleep in the bunk with him rather than on the cot they took turns on every other night.

The young man had found it comforting and after the hell he’d been through, Francis hadn’t the mind nor want to deny him, the sad fact was that no amount of comfort would ever be enough to completely heal those wounds, but if it could remedy them for the time being, or help him deal with those crippling demons, then it would do for now.

Such a memory made him take a shaky breath as he gave an idle nod, “Okay, lad.”

He settled them both down on the bed, with himself stretched out and Jopson curled up against him.

Ned let out a small noise and Crozier let out a tired sigh as the dog jumped onto the bed and curled up with them.

_‘Damn beast, I certainly didn’t teach you that you’re welcome on furnishings.’_

Carefully he eased Jopson down to lay down beside him before turning to lay on his side so he could face him.

Pale eyes were heavy lidded, but they were open, and oh did they look so, so very sad, but he could also see a sliver of relief, an understanding in them as well as they stared into his own blue gaze.

They just stared at each other, Jopson staring into the azure eyes that reflected the glow of the burning candle, his face calm, persevering, and as strong as he’d always seen it. Crozier staring into the dead, drained gaze of a man who just made a most challenging decision.

Neither one said a word, not as silent tears of defeat and acceptance rolled down Jopson’s cheeks to drip onto the bed clothes, not as Francis took him into his arms and held him securely his chin resting atop black hair, and certainly not as the young man wept silently until he eventually fell asleep in his captain’s arms.

[ ](https://vikkicomics-blog.tumblr.com/post/621313534813454336/heres-the-two-versions-of-the-sunlgiht-fic-art)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SOBS HYSTERICALLY* WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF!!!!?!?!?!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned cuddles with Francis. Jopson seems to be making progress. The men have a dinner party to prepare for. A tender good bro moment with Ross and Francis. Francis tells James about what happened on the expedition. Jopson can't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE!!! IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE!!!**
> 
> **I WENT BACK AND DID SOME TWEAKING TO THE TIMELINE FOR THIS STORY SO YES DATES HAVE BEEN CHANGED!!! SO PLEASE DON'T BE CONFUSED!!!**

Francis awoke the next morning to a long, very wet tongue, lapping at his face and he grimaced turning his face away from Ned’s insistent affection.

Wait. Why did he still feel like he was holding someone in his arms.

Opening his eyes he found that Jopson had wiggled out of his grasp already and had more than likely, cheekily replaced himself with the still growing young dog.

_‘That sneaky little bastard.’_

Looking around he found the lad was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear things from down the hall.

Ned having interpreted the small smile that had formed on his face as hint that his kisses had been the cause began to lick again this time catching the poor retired captain right in the mouth.

Feeling the dog’s tongue meet his he shoved the canine off the bed with a rough shove and spat profusely.

Heaving himself from the bed he decided to go get cleaned up and get dressed, but first to see what Jopson was up to.

* * *

As Francis entered his dining hall he froze, mouth falling open at the sight of the mess that bestowed him there.

Boxes. Boxes. Boxes.

Boxes on the dining table.

Boxes stacked on the cabinets.

Boxes stacked in twos upon the floor.

Boxes everywhere!

“Why!? Blast! Where in the Lord’s damn name is it...” he heard Tom’s irritated muttering from the small closet attached the room.

It was meant to be a pantry, but hell if Francis Crozier ate much living alone or well not alone he supposed, but he had a garden for that purpose.

No it was mostly storage.

“J-Jopson! What in Christ’s name-!?!” he shouted, quite frustrated with such a mess.

“Oh!” he heard the younger man exclaim, popping his head out of the small space to stare at him a bright beaming grin upon his face.

Crozier was honestly taken aback, he hadn’t seen him smile in such a way in a very long time.

It almost made him forget the mess altogether, wanting nothing more than to kiss those dimples on his face.

His smile turned to a sheepish grin as his eyes briefly scanned the mess he’d made of his dining room.

“Sorry, sir. I’m looking for the good china. It just occurred to me that we have to get ready for the Ross’s visit tomorrow.”

Francis felt like his mind just exploded.

Jopson was trying to go on ceremony for something. The man hadn’t done such a thing since.. since they were still aboard Terror… almost four years ago!

This fact was almost enough to cripple him with emotion as he gripped the side of the table, taking a deep breath as to not make a big deal about something that was clearly good, that meant progress.

Wait.

“T-The Ross’s?” Francis asked stupidly, not recalling why his old friend would be swinging in for a visit.

Thomas poked his head out again and nodded eagerly, “Yes, Francis, don’t you remember inviting them for dinner several months ago? They were going to be passing through.”

When the older man just stood there with his mouth hanging open, Jopson took that as a no.

He also noticed how uncomfortable the captain looked all the sudden though too, and his smile fell.

“I-I’m sorry.. I just, I figured I would start getting the place looking suitable, and get the nice china out… should I not have?”

Crozier quickly shook his head, “No, no that’s not it lad. My relationship with Ross though, he knows I don’t stand on ceremony.”

Jopson blushed deeply, “Oh.. um.. yes, I know that, sir… I just thought we could… just this once. If.. if that’s alright? I’ll put everything back, promise.”

Something about Jopson’s behavior struck him as odd, and while he was happy to see the man actually starting to show signs of life to him again he couldn’t help the gnawing feeling in the back of his heart.

Were they not going to speak about last night?

Then it occurred to him.

He was trying to keep himself busy so that he wouldn’t have to.

Since the man’s breakdown about a week ago things had been different between them, at least there was an acknowledgment of what had formed between them, but poor Jopson was still conflicted.

Even with the younger man’s admission of returned feelings for him, he was hesitant.

It was gut churning too, because he could see how Jopson wanted to be intimate with him, that was clear with how the smaller man would try to initiate kisses here and there, but usually he’d break down with emotion before any serious exchanges of affection could be given.

Francis knew he had to be patient, even if it never had been one of his strong points.

Jopson was in a delicate process of trying to let go and he needed to let him do that with his own time.

It was very clear that Jopson hadn’t a sexual encounter with anyone since Edward, well minus that drunken night frigging he’d given into, even then though the lad had been so out of it he’d been hallucinating it as Edward doing the act.

Oh the hurt in his eyes that night when he’d come to reality, it had reminded him of someone who had been given hope and then it was cruelly ripped away again.

“Francis?” Jopson’s voice called to him quietly.

Shaking his head of the thoughts, he offered a smile and a nod.

“You know what Jopson? I think that may be exactly what we need around here. Go right ahead lad, I shall let you Captain this planning.”

Jopson’s smile lit up the room, a light blush still on his face. “I don’t know if I could lead you, sir.”

Crozier chuckled softly waving a dismissive hand, “Well, you clearly can because I appear to have been disranked and you promoted again. How you climb the ranks, lad.”

When Tom let out a small giggle Francis knew he’d won. He made his way through the boxes to peer inside the closet that Jopson had been searching through.

“I will give you a bit of direction though, lad, the bone china is in the cellar. Near the bourbon.”

The younger man made a face, “Why is it down there?”

Francis just shrugged, “God forbid lad, what friends do I need to impress?”

They both laughed and Francis felt his heart felt lifted, light, and warm as the two of them shared one of those moments that were so very rare but always welcome in his house.

* * *

**~ August 4th, 1851~**

* * *

"Sir James!" Jopson beamed brightly as he opened the front door.

James Ross returned the smile as Ann stepped up beside him.

"Lady Ross too!? Oh, you spoil me." the young man laughed softly as he embraced Ann warmly.

"Please, come in, the Captain's cooking our supper as we speak." Jopson said, stepping aside to usher them inside the home he shared with Crozier.

"Thomas, it's lovely to see you on your feet dear. How do you fair? You're remembering to eat?"

James couldn't help but smile fondly as Jopson looped his arm in twine with hers and began to escort her through the house like a proper gentleman, which he still was, they tittered and chatted as they disappeared to Crozier's gallery.

He would swear that Thomas Jopson put most of Ann's lady friends to shame. They connected so well from the start, even when Crozier had stood holding the boy's scurvy ravaged body, in his arms among their dining hall.

She'd immediately started mother-henning and fussing over him, when he'd awoke she swore - albeit in jest- that he needed to take lessons from Jopson in manners.

The two could spend hours talking about sewing tricks, how to prepare tea, and even laundering. She came up with ways to help Jopson learn how to do certain things again, tasks that he'd thought himself unable to do anymore, like shaving.

The permanent disfigurements and nerve damage done to his hands, hands that once worked so very hard, indeed, had caused him much dismay. From what Francis told him, the boy felt he was a burden. Which he was anything but.

For the longest time, he'd felt ashamed that Francis would have to help him, but Ann took the time to help him discover how to balance the razor in both odd-digited hands. Now he was able to shave his face with his right hand with time and patience, and few knicks of the skin.

James remembered very well that Jopson was more vain than he would have you believe, so _that_ had to have meant the world to the boy.

Why were they still referring to the man as a boy? Was it because they could still recall the man as barely such? A young eighteen-year-old eager to prove himself? Hell the man was at least thirty now, he thought? If his math was correct surely.

Force of habit he supposed. Much like Jopson still called Francis Crozier, Captain or Sir.

As he made his way to the kitchen he indeed found Francis Crozier cooking, and it smelled marvellous!

A playful gleam sparked in his eye upon his presence not yet being discovered.

"Francis!!!"

The older man let out a choked cry dropping the spoon he was using to stir the stew he was making upon the counter with a cry of alarm.

Laughing heartily but expecting a retaliation as a consequence to his unkind scare, James was ready to duck as the spoon was gathered up quickly and chucked at his head when the Irishman spun on his heel with a scowl, face tinted pink in quick temper.

“God damn your eyes Ross!! Bleedin’ Christ yer like a damn cat!!!”

Still laughing he moved to retrieve the projectile from where it had collided with the wall and fell to the floor, “It’s good to see you too, old friend.”

Francis snorted, trying to keep himself from offering a hint of a smile as he pouted, but he did give him the slightest of nods as he took the returned spoon from the man.

After James had stifled his giggles a silence befell both of them, and Ross couldn’t help but notice the trouble expression upon his friend’s face.

“Are you alright old man, I didn’t startle you too badly I hope?”

Crozier said nothing, but he did let out a sigh as he put the spoon he had just rinsed in a washbasin down on the counter.

“I don’t know know where to begin, James. There’s a lot of things going on right now between me and Jopson.”

James sat himself down in a chair before the open window and crossed his legs casually, “Well, my friend. I am more than willing to lend an ear if it will ease your troubles. I know he’s in the gallery with Ann.”

With a weary sigh, Francis turned to his friend after making sure the stew was ready to simmer in the pot he had on the fire.

“It had come to my attention that I offered you.. very few details of the expedition, despite the fact that you put yourself at risk with the admiralty to hide that more happened.”

The younger man’s felt his heart swell slightly, it was true, he’d always wondered why he had been given little information.

Why his friend had been so adamant to hide or leave out events that might have been important he didn't know, but he trusted Francis. If he thought the admiralty shan’t know about them he would run with it.

Besides, there were a few things he had.. ideas of what might have occurred, especially with Jopson’s shattered mental state and frequent breakdowns in the beginning.

Cannibalism was something that was not unheard of in lost or stranded expeditions. Men will do horrible things to each other in times of desperation. Madness can lead to assaults both sexual or physical in nature, murder, mutiny, cannibalism was sadly one of these many possibilities. Yes, it had happened on other expeditions before, a handful of times to be honest.

Every time the admiralty tried to cover it up.

Forcing an understanding smile onto his face he met that piercing blue gaze, “My friend, I trust you more than them old buffoons. We both knew they would be at your neck as it was. If there were things that would have spared you unnecessary pain after being stranded there for so long, I was more than happy to help. I trust you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

That brought a warm smile to the retired captain’s face and that itself granted him some satisfaction.

“Well, as long as you promise to not believe me mad. I’m inclined to tell you now, but you mustn’t mention a word of this to Jopson. These things he’ll have to bring up to you in his own time, if he feels he wishes to do so.”

Ross nodded and locked his eyes on his with a dead seriousness, “You have my word, as not only a fellow captain, but also one friend to another.”

“I couldn’t ask for a better friend, James, I hope you know this much. I do, truly, appreciate everything you have done for me, for both us, old friend.”

“Oh stop, being so sappy, it doesn’t become you.” he grinned, a boyish, teasing grin.

Francis snorted in response before taking a deep breath.

“First, I should start by saying, that while we didn’t discover the passage, as a Discovery Service, we did succeed in discovering something else.”

James leaned forward, curious, questioning eyes staring at him eagerly but Francis shook his head, “What we found is no longer there, it’s dead.”

That eagerness immediately diminished, but that curiousness remained and he spoke voice lowered to a more private tone.

“Does this have to do with that ‘creature you mentioned?”

When the Irishman inhaled sharply and had to take a deep breath to recompose himself, James made a mental note to watch how he worded things, this was clearly very delicate.

“It does, very much so I’m afraid.”

“Is this thing what had Jopson so shaken?”

“No. No but it is one of the things. What we discovered, we weren’t meant to see James. It was not of this world. I say this in fear with the idea of you thinking me mad, but this thing, this monster, it had a name. The Esquimaux called it _‘Tuunbaq’_. It was neither bear nor man, but a spirit, an ancient creature, that dressed as a great white bear. It was… it was massive.”

James swallowed thickly, it sounded absurd, but then again, the Captain Francis Crozier that he knew was not by any means a superstitious person. He believed his eyes. If the man said that’s what he saw, he would take him for his word.

“How big was it?” he finally uttered softly.

Francis raised briefly surprised eyes before averting them again down to the floor as he recalled the giant beast.

“If I had to guess, I’d say about twelve feet tall on two legs. It attacked us several times, it took musket ball after musket ball, being set ablaze, cannon fire, and one of Fitzjames’s rockets.”

Ross paled visibly, surely such a thing couldn’t have existed, truly?

“You… you are serious?” he couldn’t help but ask and his stomach churned as he received an affirmative nod.

A long, tense silence befell them and Francis turned back to his cooking to throw some onions into the pot as he recalled all those lost to the creature.

Images of morbidly mutilated bodies flashed through his head briefly.

Franklin’s severed leg, the blood trail into that deep icy pit.

Private Heather’s ripped open skull.

William Strong’s upper half and Thomas Evan’s lower half crudely stacked atop each other…

Thomas’s crippling wounds that cost him his leg… the sight of such a wound sick with gangrene.

Hickey’s crew being viciously slaughtered, torn apart one by one.

That impostor Hickey ripped in half.

Finally he spoke again, keeping his back turned to the younger man to hide the emotion that he was sure could be read on his face should he turn around, and the words came raspy and so quiet Ross almost didn’t hear them.

“This thing that we discovered is what killed Franklin. All that was left of him was his right leg.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw James uncross his legs, moving to the edge of his chair as he gaped at him in silent horror.

He turned his head to face his old friend, meeting his gaze with a despairing look. “A leg, James, we buried a leg.”

Realization struck James fiercely. 

“Good God Francis... that's why you were trying to keep Jopson on a tight leash with the admiralty.” his voice was barely above a whisper as he stared in shock.

That shock soon morphed into ice chilling dread when the Irishman began listing names.

“Lieutenant Gore, Franklin, Sergeant Bryant, Private Heather, Private Pilkington, Mr Pocock, Mr Wall, Mr Murray, Thomas Evans, Mr Strong, Mr Diggle, Sergeant Tozer, Mr Manson, Mr James Reid, Mr Thomas Honey...”

As Francis continued Ross couldn’t help but ask himself just where this list ended. It seemed like this thing had caused so much grief, and he wanted to stop the man from naming any more of his crew, but he had sworn to listen, so listen he did.

“Lieutenant Fairholme, Mr MacBean, Lieutenant Henry Hodgson, Private Reed, Private Healey, Mr Sargent, Mr Collins, Mr Osmer, Robert Golding, Mr Darlington, the impostor Hickey… and Thomas Blanky.”

The older man gave a humourless chuckle, almost bitter, and James waited as the man tried to find what he wanted to tell him next.

“A fool of a captain, three ranking lieutenants, six marines, three able bodied seamen, seven officers, five petty officers, two boys. That monster, that _Tuunbaq_ , it killed twenty-seven men, and that’s just the ones we know for sure. Thing was damn near impossible to kill and then in the end, strangled to death, by a boat chain I was shackled to. Would you believe it?”

Good Lord, the irony in that was just… just… horrible…

“That’s not the reason we ended up the way we did though James.” the man finally whispered softly.

He couldn’t help but ask what had been on his mind when he’d heard the word mutiny, and his own recollection of the obvious signs of the mental trauma that cannibalism understandably had on men, which Jopson had displayed. 

“Forgive me, Francis, for asking but was the mutiny divided on…provisions? ” he couldn’t even utter such an act and it filled him with shame, as these two men clearly lived through these things.

A long, uncomfortable pause settled between the two of them and Francis turned briefly to stir the food before turning back to him and folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes. The mutiny was started by the Caulker’s Mate, Cornelius Hickey, but later I learned that this man was an impostor who killed the real sailor. In hopes to get to a warm, island climate after the voyage. A slimy, weasel of a man, he was the one who first proposed that we utilize the bodies of comrades for...”

When Ross held up a hand for silence, Francis was grateful, knowing the message was received loud and clear.

“James, Commander Fitzjames and I, we were… that is to say, involved in a very, personal, private, relationship.”

The look of shock upon Ross’s face was almost laughable and Francis couldn’t help but chuckle.

As for James, he was blown away, the letters he had received from Francis last, during the voyage they had spoken nothing but annoyance and distaste for the Franklin’s second, claiming his stories were aggravating and repetitive no matter how heroic they were.

He shouldn’t be surprised that Francis Crozier would sleep with a man, but still he hadn’t been expecting it.

“Fitzjames, he was crippled with scurvy. He was so sick, in so much pain, and I… I did what he requested of me…”

James felt his heart fall into his stomach.

“He asked you to… oh Francis… you didn’t...”

Blue eyes raised to meet his horrified gaze, eyes that held a deep sorrow and regret, but yet they remained confident clearing his throat to force back the tears that had welled in his eyes.

“To euthanize him, yes.. In his state… yes.. yes, I did just that old friend. I loved him… and I… I couldn’t deny him relief from that pain. His wounds from his infamous tale had reopened. Blood was pouring out of scars Ross, I couldn’t deny him that relief.”

Another heavy silence became the room and Ross finally gathered the courage to ask.

“Why were you shackled to a boat?”

“Sadly, we didn’t realize that the mutineers had left someone in the camp to relay messages, Robert Golding, one of Erebus’s boys. It would have been several weeks after the mutiny itself, in the middle of August of 1848 that they had sent him to fetch me to look at a lead that was never there to begin with. My first lieutenant Edward Little and Thomas Hartnell accompanied me, but it was an ambush. Poor Hartnell was killed and I didn’t want any more bloodshed, so I went with them willingly, I instructed Edward to continue to lead the men South.”

“Edward Little? That’s right… he was promoted to Commander while you were away.”

Francis smiled fondly, “Aye. I say he deserved it.”

Ross nodded, watching as Francis stirred the pot a couple of times before turning back to him.

“Lieutenant Little was a fiercely loyal man. I knew he wouldn’t abandon me there, and my hopes had been that Edward would bring an armed group back in retaliation...”

“He didn’t?”

Crozier offered a weak smile, “No. No, he didn’t. He wanted to, but the men’s morale was too compromised at that point. Each of them wanting to get home so badly. I can’t fault them for not wanting to charge into a fight, even if they easily outgunned Hickey’s group.”

“I’m sorry Francis.”

Heaving a sigh, Francis retrieved a couple glasses and then bottle of wine he had pulled out of the cellar.

“I thought you stopped?” James asked, his voice holding noticeable concern.

Chuckling he nodded as he uncorked the bottle with a bit of effort with his one hand then began to pour himself a glass.

“One glass of wine won’t hurt me old friend. Whiskey is the one I shan’t dare touch. Drink with me?”

Smiling James nodded, “I’d like nothing more. Thank you.”

Francis brought the two glasses to the small side table where James sat and sat in the other chair, catching sight of a blue bird on the growing sapling outside on the property.

“I am more sorry for what happened in my absence.” he admitted softly handing James one of the two glasses.

“What do you mean?”

Francis turned his gaze to the younger man, trying to gather his words.

“Jopson had been bed ridden with scurvy not long after James was gone. He was sick something fierce, I’d spent time with him in the sick tent the night before my capture, trying to cheer the poor man up. One of my last orders as Captain, had also been to the remaining able lieutenants, Little and Henry Le Vesconte, that we shan’t leave any man behind, the sick, they had every right to live as we did. Both men seemed to understand and accept the order at the time.”

“Oh good Christ, please tell me they didn’t!” Ross asked, gaping in absolute horror as the insinuation of what had happened next hung heavy in the air.

“I wish I could James. They left him behind. Jopson had tried to follow them once he’d realized they were taking the boats, he told me that there was yet one sailor still alive, able body seaman William Wentzall, he was suffering from consumption and was dying. Jopson tried to take care of him, but he died and he remained there by himself until Edward came back for him on a guilty conscious… and for other reasons I’m sure.”

That caught James’s attention and he took another sip of wine before setting the glass down again. “Other reasons?”

Francis nodded, and Ross noticed how his eyes seemed to swell with a pain all the sudden, wetting his lips briefly before meeting his gaze again.

“The two had been involved. Jopson and Little.”

Crozier could see the gears turning in his friend’s head, as he slowly started to piece things together, the grim appearance of his face a clear sign he was starting to understand.

“In all honesty, I hadn’t know that at the time. I would never suspected it either, until I found Thomas still alive. Edward’s body was less than two feet from him… it was… the sight was out of a horror story James. I’ve never spoken about this with anyone, besides Jopson. This must stay between us. It is a very sensitive… topic.”

Ross swallowed nervously before clearing his throat, “It’s why he is the way he is?”

“Aye, and you mustn’t think anything less of him for it. What those two men went through in the end was… it would make the most god fairing of men lose fai-”

“Francis.” James’s reassuring voice cut him off and the older man took a deep breath, stopping his ramble, “You have my word my friend, I don’t think I could think any less of a man who has clearly been through hell in back. He’s strong, he’s had to be, that itself has my respect.”

The older man took another breath, pouring himself another glass of wine, this one only half before passing the bottle over to Ross.

“Edward fought so hard to keep them both alive. Lieutenant Le Vesconte, he’d started to deteriorate mentally even before my abduction. From what Jopson told me, he’d been extremely hostile towards Little for returning for him and bringing him back to the camp. The two men were constantly going at each other’s throats, several times they’d have physical altercations initiated by Henry that the men would have to break up.”

It was a partial lie, he knew that, Jopson hadn’t mentioned Le Vesconte’s madness, Edward did, but Jopson did tell him about the tension between he two men and the arguments they’d had.

“Eventually, his madness had progressed to the point he’d lost his damn mind. He’d attacked Edward on while the two were on watch, knocked him out and mutilated the man’s face with the chain of his pocket watch. Stabbed it through the skin like crude stitches, through his nose, skin beneath his eyes, and the corners of his lips. Kept poor Edward quiet with the threat of a pistol shoved down his throat. Jopson told me that it had been interrupted by the boatswain’s mate Thomas Johnson, and that Edward killed Le Vesconte afterwards. The chains were too deep for them to remove and he barely pulled through the infection that followed the injuries.”

Francis felt his heart clench violently as he imagined briefly, how terrifying that experience must have been.

James’s face had gone deathly pale and the older man sighed.

“Then the tins ran out.”

Clearing his throat again James raised his hand, “I… I understand, not to cut you off Francis.”

He understood. It was not a pleasant topic.

"The two were the last one's standing... but three days before we found Jopson.. Edward had died in his sleep while on watch. He had been taking care of Jopson when his scurvy had worsened badly, poor Thomas was reliant on him on that point in his weakened state."

Ross swallowed thickly, he could actually feel tears threatening to form in his eyes, god Jopson was shown no mercy out there. It was horrible, to know that someone, a friend, went through something so fiercely awful.

“When me and Silna found Jopson.. he was so sick. He was feverish, disoriented, snow blind, scurvy ridden, his clothes were in tatters hanging off of him. There he was, piled under a mountain of blankets eating whatever he had been able to get a hold of… Edward’s arm had a huge chunk cut out of it. He was blinded and unable to walk in his state, he didn’t know it was Edward that he’d cut into, there was another body in the tent with them, but Jopson realized it later, and he has hated himself for it ever since.”

“Good Christ... that poor man.” James mumbled quietly, taking a deep indulgence off his glass, emptying it before pouring himself another.

“When I tried to talk to him, he’d been so shocked and weak that he passed out. When he awoke while we were moving him, he so scared, he was crying for Little to save him, too sick to understand what was going on. How he begged for his life, for no harm to fall upon him, those eyes of his roving in absolute panic, it haunts my dreams often.”

Ross nodded, looking down in thought as he thought over his words.

He couldn’t believe Jopson was still with them. Most men, most men were they to experience such… such heartache, he knew they would have kissed the first gun or blade they could get their hands on.

Both the men had suffered broken hearts. Francis had lost Fitzjames and Thomas had lost Little.

Silently he met his friend’s piercing blue gaze again, “The expedition isn’t the only reason you’re telling me this, is it Francis?”

“No. No it’s not.” the older man agreed standing to check on the stew briefly before taking his seat again. “Something has forged between us in the aftermath of all this. I love him James.”

Ross sighed, he’d had a feeling this was the direction this was going to go ever since Francis had mentioned his involvement with Fitzjames.

“It’s not just me, he feels it too.. he’s told me… but...”

He nodded, understanding the man’s personal conflict, he was worried about how Jopson was handling their shared feelings for each other.

Taking another sip of his glass he leaned back in his chair, thinking over his words as he set the glass down.

“He’s hurting Francis, and it sounds to me like the poor man has been hurting for a long time.”

* * *

“Thomas, if I wasn’t married to that woman I would think that she enjoyed your company more than mine.”

Francis laughed at the bright crimson that lit up his lieutenant’s face, said lieutenant smiling sheepishly.

“Indeed? Who is to say I don’t. You awful man.” Ann scolded her husband teasingly.

James just smiled charmingly with a wink in her direction.

“It has been grand to see you again Sir James, you’ll write us and keep in touch I hope?” Jopson asked brightly.

Ross chuckled patting the younger man on the shoulder. “Always my friend, and don’t be a stranger yourself. If you ever need anything you need just ask. I know that old man can be a handful.”

“Blazing hell Ross, shut your gob. You have no room to say such things.”

Thomas grinned, leaning in closer to the knighted man and speaking quietly, “Careful. His Irishness is legendary for a reason.”

James laughed heartily, slapping him on the shoulder as he shook his head in half-hearten scolding, “Did anyone jump over the gunwales?”

“I heard that!”

* * *

As Jopson lay awake that night he found himself tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep, his heart was thrumming in his chest with thoughts of how wonderful the night had been.

It had felt so nice to have both him and the captain working on things like they used to aboard Terror.

He’d seen the man smile brightly as they both enjoyed their guests company.

It warmed him… he hoped it warmed the other man too.

Especially when he’d been able to spot the slivers of sadness in the man’s eyes occasionally during the night during times he thought he wasn’t looking.

Thomas didn’t know exactly what it was that he was sad about… but he had a feeling it was because of him and the more he thought about this possibility the more restless he became.

Maybe he should talk to the man… tell him how much he means to him.

Maybe…

Unable to stop himself he rose from his bed, grabbing the oil lamp and moved to exit his bedroom.

He quietly made his way to the master bedroom where he knew Crozier likely was with it being as late as it was.

Francis tended to leave his door ajar in case something were to happen in the middle of the night so all he really had to do was push the door open, he winced at how the heavy wood creaked slightly.

The older man startled awake, throwing the sheets and blankets from his body as he bolted upright, his tired blue eyes reflecting the lamplight as he stared right at him in confusion.

“Jop… son.. what is it lad?” he began his sentence with a yawn that interrupted his words.

Swallowing nervously, Jopson set the oil lamp down on the small side table near the door then made his way over to the captain’s bed.

Francis watched him curiously as he climbed onto the bed with him.

He straddled the Irishman's hips as he crawled on top of him and the other man’s eyes went wide in surprise, his mouth falling open as he tried to form sentences.

The older man couldn’t believe what was happening, still didn’t quite understand what the young man was doing, had he been drinking again?

His former lieutenant said nothing but he did smile shyly, face a pretty pink with a blush.

“Jopson.. what are you-?” he started but his words were cut off by two soft, gentle lips that silenced his words and odd-digited hands cupped his face, fingers ran through the short whiskers upon his jaw.

Oh he wanted this man so badly.

Still unsure if this was really okay with the young man, he decided to test the waters and find out as he let his hands.. or well a hand and his stump rest against his hips.

His cheeks burned as he remembered his missing hand pulled that arm back, letting it rest against the bedclothes as he caressed the younger man’s hip tenderly with his good hand.

To his surprise Jopson encouraged it by deepening the kiss. One hand moved to the base of his neck while the other moved beneath his night shirt and pulled at the front of his small clothes, giving the waist a small tug to request permission.

“Francis. Captain, will you have me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE!!! IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE!!!**
> 
> **I WENT BACK AND DID SOME TWEAKING TO THE TIMELINE FOR THIS STORY SO YES DATES HAVE BEEN CHANGED!!! SO PLEASE DON'T BE CONFUSED!!!**
> 
> See I told you guys the happy waters would come! Did I not!? Time to get out of the gloom territory! 
> 
> As always your thoughts are always lovely!!! 
> 
> Cheers lads!


	11. Chapter 11

Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier had experienced many things in his life. 

Yet despite this, even now, he still couldn't believe what he was seeing... what was happening… what he feeling. 

It was something he’d been craving for quite some time, but he found now that as his desires lay unfolding before his very eyes he knew not what to do with himself.

Jopson had been such an uncontrollable mess lately and now here he was before him having come to his quarters and… crawled onto his bed like some stalking jungle cat, such a seductive air about him as he moved up to straddle his hips like some doxy in a tawdry tavern.

This was a cruel dream of wanting fantasy wasn't it? Surely he was still asleep.

Still gaping in shock he met those beautiful eyes staring expectantly before casting his gaze down to those full pink lips that were pulled into one of those cute little half-smiles.

He tried to speak but all that came out was an indignant croaking whisper which sent flares of red vines whisping upon his face. 

Clearing his throat he tried again it still came rather raspy, "Y-Yes. By all the gods as my witness... yes Thomas." 

Jopson hummed softly and placed another kiss to his lips, a gentle, warm, and earnest gesture as they met his that somehow felt so very dry all the sudden. 

His former lieutenant hooked his fingers further into the waistband of his drawers, and Francis lifted his hips momentarily to make his task of removing the article a little easier. 

Once he'd tossed his small clothes to the floor Jopson divested him of his nightshirt leaving him bare.

The lad got off the bed then to disrobe himself, pulling his own nightshirt up over his head to toss it to the floor as well. 

That night, that painful night little over a month ago... from which he could still remember how Jopson's despair had shown it's true face in the form of an alcohol induced break in reality... how he'd lain his heart open to the man with such earnest. 

Even now, especially now, he could still see the pictures of that night as clear as he could see those beautiful eyes that stared into his right now. Gorgeous pale green, nervous eyes that were misty with tears. The trembling mangled hands that paused in easing his drawers from lithe hips, keeping himself modest for the time being.

He could still hear Jopson's voice so full of a fruitless hope as he'd mistaken him for Edward. How his voice had come so shrill, pained, and yet held a fierce joy made so very vibrant, almost like an invisible sun dog as it had been fuelled with such passion and so much love for the man that a heartless tundra had stolen from him.

_**"Oh.. I-I love you! E-Edward o-oh god... Edwarrrd oooh!"** _

He could still hear those words and noises and sobs of misery that followed as he'd broken down in his lap, could hear them now as easily as Jopson's voice reached his ears at this moment. 

"You'll have to forgive me if I..." Jopson trailed off, eyes speaking for him in their semi-glassy sheen, "... I haven't been with anyone else.. after…”

He understood, wholeheartedly for that matter. 

Commander James Fitzjames had been the last man he had slept with much like Lieutenant Edward Little had been the last man Thomas Jopson had slept with.

 _‘No… Commander Little.’_ Francis reminded himself feeling the slightest bit of loathing for this world they lived in at the fact. 

It was ironic how Edward Little had worked so hard to climb the ranks of the Royal Navy. From what Crozier knew of the man’s navy record as it was, his years of service, he should have gotten the promotion a long time ago. 

When he finally received the rank of Commander it was so bitterly ironic in its circumstance. 

Like a cruel and humorless joke. 

Easing himself of the thoughts he turned his attention back to the man before him. 

Offering a warm reassuring smile he nodded and with a voice full of sincerity, addressed the stray tears that trickled down his cheeks, "Aye, I am already expecting them lad. It's alright. There be no judgments here, just love."

Jopson nodded, appearing comforted by his words. He began to ease his drawers from his waist, gliding the fabric down long legs. 

He stepped out of them one foot at a time, his gaze lingering at his feet momentarily as he realized he hadn't put any socks on before he came to see Francis. The captain would be able to see the familiar scar on his right leg (although it looked much more mean looking since it’d healed over a second time), and the two missing small toes, and the absence of the middle one on his left foot.

Frozen for a second with some insecurity he took a deep breath. Crozier wouldn't mind, he tried to reassure himself. After all the man was missing a hand himself and Lord knows, he sees his disfigured hands all the time.

Disfigured. 

Forcing himself to swallow his insecurities he looked back up at the older man. He noted how the Irishman's eyes studied his body up and down while he waited patiently.

Francis, though he'd seen the man naked quite a few times at this point, had to during the poor lad’s fierce battle with scurvy, he hadn't seen Jopson bare in his entirety since the middle of the September of 1850, aboard Enterprise.

However back then the reason for having Jopson in such an indecent state had been to get him out of his seal fur parka and other necessary clothing for living in such horrible temperatures, clothes he'd worn when they'd lived with the Netsilik people.

The furs and hides had begun to overheat the lad in the damned luxurious warmth of Enterprise's coal heated belly. It had been to get him into cooler clothes and to wash his fragile, fevered body, to clean his injuries.

The view had always been pale sickly skin, large painful bruises, blood surrounding the base of each wiry strand of hair that sprouted from his chest, groin, belly, legs, and face. Ribs, hip, collar, and cheek bones that jutted out prominently from his emaciated state. Sunken eyes with blood blotching white and bleeding gums. 

It had never been for his personal enjoyment.

Of course... the sight of his lieutenant's broken and illness ravaged body then had been too painful and upsetting to be deemed even remotely appealing. 

He had been so sick.

Now he scanned the man's body quietly with a curiosity. 

Thankfully he'd put on a healthy weight again and despite the fact that he was nowhere near as muscular as he had been aboard Terror, there was some lean sculpted curve upon his biceps and calves. It brought Francis some quiet relief as he noticed the boy's abdomen wasn't as flat and sunken as he'd been expecting, and that there was actually the faintest traces of muscle tone. He'd found some way to try to get back into good physical shape that was clear and it was also a good sign.

The dark coarse hair upon Jopson's breast fanned out between two olive toned nipples giving him a furred expanse before it thinned down just past the top of his rib cage, picking up again in a modest trail of fuzz a couple inches above his belly button where it began to thicken again, the dark strands started to inherent the slightest touch of a wavy appearance as it spread around his navel and from there bristled out into a thicket of dark black, wavy curls. The lad's semi-hard arousal twitched with want betwixt the center of wild hair that nestled around it.

As long as Francis had known Jopson, he had always been a good looking man, had also been good looking even as boy now that he took a moment to recall Jopson how he'd first met him at the tender age of eighteen. On the Ross Expedition.

Glancing back to those pale sea toned eyes, he noticed how a coy flush came to life on the lieutenant's handsome young face upon realizing where he'd been staring.

This also meant he'd seen the lad both flaccid and with an engorged erection, the latter only once before, but at the time it wasn't meant to be for his eyes. 

Now of course the view was being offered to him personally, and the retired captain could see such a difference in the younger man's behavior. 

He was nervous, unsure, and seemed a lot less confident in his advances compared to how the man had straddled him in his chair by the hearth before.

Francis met those eyes offering a kind smile before speaking in a voice full of warm affection, "You're beautiful lad."

Thomas blushed deeply as he moved to climb back onto the bed. He wasn't used to hearing such things anymore. 

It felt foreign to him to have another praise him in such ways and in a way it felt wrong for such words to be directed at him when the lips that spoke them belonged to the man he had served for over a decade as a loyal, dutiful steward.

How often he had praised the man for his leadership, friendship, and overall the good qualities that Crozier always choose not to believe he had.

Like he hadn't deserved a word of it.

Silently he climbed onto the bed and Francis sat up reaching and pulling him into his warm, strong arms. 

Crozier's hand ran up his back and nape to find the back of his head to let fingers comb through his dark hair as he pulled him closer so he could bring their foreheads together. 

Jopson felt a multitude of emotion swell in his chest as the man held this position, eyes bluer than the very sea of which they sailed upon in a past life stared deeply into his own. 

Such warmth, love, and a tender serenity. 

Contentment, relief, and joy. 

Concern, devotion, and a fierce state of want. 

So gentle and strong...

So many, many things that seemed familiar but the color was wrong.

Those magnificent cerulean pools, stared at him like he was... the greatest thing in the world.

He couldn't help the small gasp that tore free from his lips, nor how his eyes widened in astonishment then immediately were blurred by thick, hot, tears of painful recognition.

That look.

Edward... it was how Edward used to look at him with big brown eyes the color of the finest of chocolate.

Breathing in a trembling inhale, he squeezed his eyes tightly closed, worrying his bottom lip between teeth.

"What's the matter Thomas?" the man asked softly, voice even with curiosity and void of any hints of judgment.

He didn't want to talk about Edward, didn't want to ruin the mood, so he chose not to speak as he opened his eyes.

Instead he leaned in placing a gentle kiss upon those pink lips and brought his hands up to knead through the man's blonde hair. 

Crozier hummed as he lowered them down onto their sides so they were lying abreast one another. His mouth moved slowly and so very tenderly against his lips and the man cupped the back of his head in a large warm hand.

The captain's mouth tasted of tobacco upon his tongue, and he deepened the kiss just so slightly stroking graying blond between mangled fingers. 

It would seem his choice to step up the kiss sparked some flame of passion from Crozier as his lips became more eager and wanting, teeth nibbled at his bottom lip in silent request for further entry.

He complied opening his mouth wider to allow a thick, nicotine rich tasting tongue access into his mouth. It swiped against the roof of his mouth once before meeting his own tongue for an intense battle for dominance, trying to pin the wet flesh down with his.

Francis let his hand move from the boys hair trailing it around to the front of his neck, his thumb caressing tenderly across his Adam's apple before continuing down.

The younger man's lips were so soft and gentle and sweet. Francis could taste faint traces of honey from the man's tea. 

Jopson's eyes fluttered closed relishing in how wonderful the Captain's lips continued to feel upon his as lungs burned for air.

Crozier's hand trailed to run down his sternum, fingers carded through the dark hair upon his chest and belly in their decent.

Finally the need for oxygen became much too great and he pulled away from those tender affections panting as he gulped in air.

Captain Crozier still looked more or less the same as he remembered him, with the addition of his missing hand of course.

His hair had gotten the slightest bit longer than the length at which he kept it at sea, with more flecks of silver as well, his jaw was lightly bearded with gray. 

As for his Captain's fitness, he'd lost any pudgy softness during their time in the Arctic on both voyage and with the Netsilik people when game had been scarce. Since then he'd put on the slightest bit more weight than that was necessary, but Jopson didn't blame him nor did he judge. The chest and nether hair on his ageing body was starting to go gray at its roots too. 

Then there were those beautiful piercing azure eyes and that toothy smile. 

Captain Francis Rawdon Moria Crozier was still by far a handsome man.

Crozier leaned in claiming the skin beneath his own stubble prickled jaw, mouthing, suckling, and nipping at the sensitive skin with gentle insistence.

Thomas couldn't stop the gasp that clawed itself free from the back of his throat, craning his neck up to further expose it to his captain giving the man more access.

"Mm... oh... ah... oh, S-Sir..." he breathed, pressing his hips forward to meet the older man's.

Francis bodily shuddered with want at such sweet noise, canting his own hips to meet even sweeter friction.

"Oh buggering Christ lad." he groaned pulling away from Jopson's hands to a sitting position before shifting to settle upon his aging knees.

Young Jopson eyed him with mild confusion and a tad bit of disappointment at the loss of rolling pressure from hips against his groin.

Initially he thought he'd done something wrong, maybe Francis and James had done things different as opposed to how he and Edward had. It wasn't until when the Captain patted his hip with a heated commanding palm that he understood Crozier's intentions were to have him roll onto his back.

Eager despite the vast sea of strong, roaring and untameable waves of emotion that threatened to pull him under, he complied with the request.

The light from the oil lamp was enough that Francis could see Jopson's face. His former steward looked up at him behind a fan of long lashes that were damp with tears, and the marvelously beautiful and unique eyes that belonged to Thomas Jopson made him weak at the knees.

Pale green? Blue? Gray? There were days he could put a name to their unusual color... and then some he couldn't. It was almost as if they could change overnight.

How bright they were, oh how bright... even though they, like his lashes, were wet with emotion.

 _'Bright with hope.'_ he realized.

Hope. He hadn't seen such a thing in those eyes in so, so terribly long.

When was the last time he saw hope in those magnificent pools? 

A feeling of shame, guilt, and loss courses through him momentarily as he recalled that this time in question had been about a month ago, when the lad was looking in the face of a hallucination.

No. No.. that wasn't hope. For his own sake and sanity he couldn't deem it such.

That had been despair. Not hope.

Mayhaps it was one of the last moments aboard Terror...

_**"The men are behind you, sir. Very much behind you."** _

Yes. Yes, that had been it. So much faith the man had foolishly put in him.. only for him to lead those men to their deaths.

Shaking his head of the thoughts he suspended himself over the younger man, albeit slightly awkwardly with both a hand the elbow that he propped himself up upon. He slid what remained of his fore arm, before his missing hand, beneath Jopson's head cradling it delicately as he leaned down to capture those full lips again.

A small sob tore free from Thomas, and a lone tear trickled down his cheek as lips, now wet and salty, moved against his in response.

"Are you alright Jopson?" 

The other man nodded quickly, taking a quavering breath before forcing his voice to sound.

"Yes. Forgive me, sir... it's just been so long."

Francis nodded, kissing his lips one last time before moving down to suckle on the soft flesh of his throat.

"If ever you need me to stop Thomas... I don't want ye to be afraid to tell me." he said, voice coming muffled slightly against warm flesh, "This is something that I want you to decide at yer own time." 

Jopson's hands found his hips before running up his back to knead at strong freckled shoulders. 

A couple more tears trickled down the boy's cheeks, but despite this a sincere smile that spoke so many things came to the lieutenant's face.

Even with the genuine smile his voice as it came, was interrupted by soft hitchings of breath, gasps that resembled sobs, and broken wavering syllables.

But the tone itself was warm and happy.

"A-A new meaning, sir. I-I think... truly, that E-Edward..." he trailed off having to pause to steady himself before he could continue.

"I-I think he would find solace... in knowing that I found my meaning again."

Those words, so painfully familiar...

_**"Edward wouldn’t think it unfair at all. He would want you to find a new meaning, Thomas. James would want the same for me, and I think, truly, that wherever they may be, James would find solace in knowing that I found that meaning in you.”** _

Francis felt his own eyes misting with tears of emotion and his breath caught in his throat when a gentle hand found the side of his craggy weathered face, the pad of a thumb smoothing over his whiskers.

"Yes. He would find solace in that meaning being found in Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier, Captain of the H.M.S Terror. Our Captain, a strong, resilient, kindhearted man, who did everything in his power to try to save over a hundred men from impossible odds. A man I know he respected a great deal.” Jopson continued. 

_‘Yet I failed. I don’t deserve his respect… or his loyalty. I deserved these things about as much as I’ve ever deserved to have your friendship and loyalty...’_ he thought bitterly. 

“Francis.” Jopson’s voice came in the sound of a stern hiss and Crozier was met with a fierce pair of pale eyes that bored into his blue. 

His expression must have betrayed his thoughts.

“Francis, what sets you apart from every single captain that has set sail in such an awful place is the fact that you loved your men, every single one of them, and they in turn, loved and respected you, sir. Save for a small and foolish few.” 

Such ferocity those words were spoken with, so much passion and devotion. 

Like James Fitzjames. 

How many times had James berated him for his self-depreciating view of himself he did not know. 

This forced a weak smile upon his face and a couple tears trickled from his own eyes as he spoke so very softly. “I don’t deserve you, Thomas. I never have.” 

Warm, delicate fingers wiped the clear droplets from his cheeks and Jopson smiled sweetly. 

“You, Francis Crozier, my Captain, are the only one who deserves me now, sir.” he replied, his voice cracked the slightest bit at the last word.

_‘Angel. You are an absolute angel Thomas Jopson.’_

He leaned down to kiss those lips again, moving his hand down the younger man’s furred belly and ghosting over his belly button before sliding down to move around that engorged erection to an inner thigh. 

Thomas’s breath hitched with a gasp then a small moan, and Francis watched in fascination how those pale, creamy thighs spread apart ever so slightly with want as the body they belonged to struggled with control. 

Although, the action seemed to Francis like something Jopson had learned to do through experience. 

He didn’t doubt for a moment that Little might have been a different kind of lover than he, James was definitely different than Jopson was and not just in stature.

While James had been taller than himself that meant he also towered over Jopson easily. Regarding bedside mannerisms however, James had been notoriously feisty, very sassy, and wasn’t afraid to take the reins for control in their intimacies. 

Thomas seemed to be more hesitant, shy and quiet, and though he seemed to have the will to initiate, he clearly liked to be led rather than lead himself. Much as he was sweet in his words, work, and actions he was just as sweet with his affections. Kisses and caresses felt so velvety soft and brimming with saccharine. 

He knew it may, indeed, take time for both of them to differentiate what was an experienced past quirk from their past relationships and what wasnt. It would take time for them to find their own way to communicate these things better. 

When he’d gotten up to get Jopson to roll onto his back, he knew James would have interpreted the rise and the action. He would have flipped onto backside so fast that Francis would have had to brace himself for the way James would smash their lips together when he’d pull him down on top of him. Jopson, however seemed to think he was stopping. 

It would take time and that was okay.

"Francis… nngh…” Thomas whined as he wrapped his large hand around his thigh, sliding it in further against the warm skin and up. 

_‘Francis, you bloody idiot, you forgot the oil.’_ he scolded himself.

Jopson melted like butter almost instantly, he was panting and whining softly and he shameless spread his legs wide enough now to expose himself to him as his hips canted up slightly. 

“Good boy.” he praised quietly, withdrawing his hand to swipe two fingers through the thick stripe of arousal fluid that dripped heavily down the side of Jopson’s cock, the lad letting out a delicious cry at the contact, pressing his endowment against his hand before he pulled it away.

He worked the slick fluid over two digits evenly, knowing some lubrication would make things a bit easier. 

“P-Please...” 

Francis bit back a moan himself, loins having stirred at the honey sweet voice that was now filled with the slightest bit of a shrill sexual desperation.

Without needing to be told twice he let a slick finger find the quivering ring of muscle between two splayed smooth and creamy thighs. 

Thomas gasped, jerking somewhat violently as soon as he touched him in such an intimate place, face flushing a light red and his breath hitching. 

“Shh… relax, Tom. Deep breath.” 

At the Irishman’s words Thomas squeezed his eyes shut tightly, easily recognizing their vague similarity to words that had been spoken to him so long ago.

 _ **“"Ssh.. Tom you need to relax... deep breaths..."**_ Edward's voice reached his ears.

Forcing himself to calm he lifted a hand to run across the older man’s strong jaw and let his other find a shoulder squeezing the freckled and firm flesh. 

Crozier took this as the initiative to continue so he gently eased his finger forward, breaching the tight ring that clamped down around him one last time before loosening and allowing him to do what he pleased. 

The older man sucked in a breath the lad was tight and hot and snug. Imagining his prick embedded within the man seemed to him like absolute heaven. 

Jopson groaned softly as he buried his finger up to his knuckle inside his body, hips wiggling with anticipation and fingernails digging little pinpricks into his shoulder causing him to grit his teeth. 

Maybe the lad was a bit like James after all. He mused at the familiar bite of nails in his skin.

“Ooh… f-fuck… sir...” Thomas growled softly at the stretch when he’d buried a second finger inside him.

Crozier did a double take staring at the lad in surprise at such a mouth. 

THAT was not something he was expecting. 

Such language coming from the man he could only recall as polite, well mannered, and modest for all those years he’d served him aboard Terror. The spoken words almost offended him to a degree. 

“F-Fuck?!” he repeated, tone coming rather scandalized as opposed to shocked. 

The lieutenant blushed deeply letting out a tiny abashed laugh, “Yes, sir.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh softly too as he spread his fingers about inside the tight body beneath him. 

“I see. I never figured you’d have such a filthy mouth, Mr Jopson.” he chuckled.

His young companion sniggered in response, “Aye Captain... you can thank Mr Blanky for-ooh--” 

Quirking a questioning eyebrow when the man’s cheeky response trailed off into a distracted, pleased groan as he prodded at something sensitive, so very sensitive indeed, within him, Francis crooked his fingers experimentally. 

Almost immediately, Jopson let out a shrill cry his back and shoulders jerking up from the mattress slightly as he propped himself up on his elbows. 

His eyes were blown and mouth agape in surprise. Panting softly. 

It really had been a long time. Thomas realized this because he hadn’t remembered how good that felt...

“F-Francis… I-I need you… please...” he whispered staring up at him with pale eager eyes.

Crozier nodded and hummed softly as he removed his fingers. He shifted upwards slightly so he could position his painfully hard arousal against Jopson’s entrance. 

Jopson propped himself up higher on his elbows, angling his face up to meet the captain’s lips as he craned his neck down towards him. 

He kissed the man long and tender and when the hard tip of his prick pressed into him he gasped softly against the man’s mouth. “O-Oh...” 

Francis grunted quietly as Jopson's body willingly accepted him inside.

Good God the stimulation was maddening! 

“T-Thomas… C-Christ lad, you feel amazing.” he sighed as he slid inside the tight and warm body that embraced his engorged member tightly. 

“Captain...” Jopson keened softly settling himself back upon the pillows mouth pushed apart with mild huffs of ecstasy. 

Inching forward bit by bit, Francis finally let out a deep, rumbling sigh as he had fully seated himself inside the smaller body before him. Jopson himself letting out a throaty exhale spreading his legs wider as he took a moment to adjust. 

As Crozier stared down at the dark haired beauty he could see how sweat had started to shine faintly on his body and how his belly fluttered with wild pants of breath.

His pretty pink lips were tinted a slight red, their normal fullness seemingly enhanced by their current mildly swollen state from both the scratching of his whiskers and their previous kisses of passion. They looked so beautiful as they rest in the pretty 'o' they were formed into as he huffed and puffed for air.

How beautiful he was. 

Leaning down again he raised his hand up to run it through silky inky black locks as he brought their faces close, close enough he could feel ragged puffs of breath against his face. 

“How do you feel lad?” he asked brushing their lips together and giving his hips a tiny roll against the body impaled on him. 

Jopson blinked rapidly his wet lashes glistened with more moisture from unshed tears, “F-Full… sir...”

Crozier chuckled softly placing a chaste kiss to those lips again before he began to move.

He set a rather slow, gentle pace for tonight, after all neither one of them had done this for quite some time and they had the rest of their lives to explore eachother’s bodies. 

Thomas wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him down, nuzzling his face into his neck as he continued to rock his hips into him. 

“Francis... my Captain… h-how lucky I am... t-to be with you, sir.” he heard the man whisper against his jaw before kissing the prickled skin. 

Oh how those words melted his heart. He found himself longing to hear them again, and again for as long as he lived were they to be spoken by this individual. 

Groaning aloud, he snapped his hips forward with a bit more force earning him a loud cry of euphoric bliss. The long arms around him tightened and trembling legs slowly wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper. 

“G-Gods Thomas!” he growled, deciding to keep habit of maintaining some power in his thrusts as it seemed to make the man emit such beautiful and delicious noises that made his whole body tremble and the heat that had coiled deep in his belly burn ever the hotter.

It didn’t take long for Jopson to surrender his control either, because soon he was pushing back against him trying to meet his thrusts as he clung to him tightly, babbling and crying affections for him as he continued to bugger the lad hard and meaningful.

"Oh God! Ohh C-Captain please, sir, h-harder! I-I love you! I love you!"

He placed his sweaty hand on Thomas's cheek, letting his thumb caress his cheekbone. "Shh... Goodness lad..." he panted with disbelief.

Jopson was panting and squirming with delight in his grasp, keening and sobbing with uncontrollable pleasure that was setting his young mind on overload. Captain Crozier was surprised by just how loud the young man was, he was NOT quiet at all when lost to the throes of such passion. 

"F-Francisss Oh fuck.. fuck me, sir... ohhh!"

Deep in the back of his mind he wondered if Little got these type of reactions too, but he quickly rid himself of such thoughts deeming them not only unfair but inappropriate.

“Francis… Francis! I’m… ooohh… I’m going to...” he couldn’t finish trailing off into a fit of massive pants and small whines as his efforts to meet his thrusts became jerky and uncoordinated. 

He leaned down once more for a quick kiss, “A-Aye… go ahead… you beautiful lad...” he rasped between breaths. Oh he was so close…

It wasn’t but maybe half a minute later when he felt the smaller man’s body clamp down upon him a few times before he came violently against both their bellies with a strangled sob. 

The way the lad’s body had squeezed him so unbearably tight for those brief milliseconds was enough to bring himself to sweet release as well coming inside him with a loud strained yelp. 

When the familiar bone numbing exhaustion of post-coital drowsiness seeped into his entire body, making limbs turn to jelly, he carefully lowered himself to lay on top of the sweaty body beneath him panting hard from the exertion. He took a second to catch his breath, too tired to untangle their limbs and lay next to the other man. Letting his head rest against Thomas's chest as his body heaved beneath him, he could both hear and feel the rapid thrumming of his heart from deep within the younger man's fuzz covered breast.

Jopson’s legs slowly unravelled themselves from their initial tight hold on his waist settling down upon the mattress as he tried to gulp in air, still coming down from his own euphoric high. 

“I… I love you, sir...” he choked out between both a sob and need for breath. 

Francis turned his head to kiss the lad’s sweaty temple, cheek, and then his lips, though he only hit the corner of his mouth on the last one, he was too tired to try it again. 

“How I love you, Thomas…” he breathed sliding himself out from the man’s warm passage and easing himself to lay down beside him, pulling him into his arms, “Oh Gods... how I love you, lad.” 

Groping blindly for one of the blankets he wrapped a fist around the edge of the fabric and pulled it over the top of them, never breaking eye contact with those pale eyes that stared adoringly at him accompanied by the sweet half-smile that graced his lips. 

It didn’t take long for Jopson to doze off into a blissful slumber in his arms, and with a content sigh, he felt inclined to follow.


	12. Chapter 12

_"F-Francis...?" James small voice reached his ears as he entered the great cabin._

_Oh good Lord the poor man looked miserable, bottle of brandy in hand, cravat untied and sweaty hair._

_He was drunk and Francis didn't exactly blame him._

_Carnivale had been Fitzjames's idea, he must feel riddled with guilt._

_It wasn't his fault though._

_"James, none of this is on you."_

_The younger man let out a sardonic chuckle before taking a full swig from the bottle._

_Francis couldn’t help but inwardly scowl at the man’s sudden indulgence in drink, as understandable as it was with all the carnage and death that had just happened._

_Dammit he just got literal through hell just for the sake of sobriety._

_“Of course it is. It was my idea.” James muttered glumly._

_Heaving a sigh Francis crossed the great cabin to James’s size, gently taking the bottle from the long fingers that clutched it._

_James watched with miserably sad eyes as he set it down upon the table._

_“Nay, you were not the one who set themselves on fire. That was Stanely.”_

_The younger man licked his chapped lips and cast his gaze down._

_“A doctor… immolating himself in attempts to kill the men he was supposed to save. Who would have thought such a thing could-”_

_“They wouldn’t, that’s the point. No one could have predicted this James, I certainly didn’t.”_

_When his commander still refused to meet his gaze he swallowed the lump of emotion that had formed in his throat as a result._

_“Stand up Commander.” he gruffed and straightened his posture._

_Oh those dark eyes shot him the most vehement glare that clearly read ‘How dare you order me right now’._

_However with a scowl and an irritated sigh the man stood up and their chests were so close they were almost touching._

_Silently he reached down and too a still chilled hand within his own curling his fingers between long ones._

_The shock that formed on the commander’s face from the small, affectionate, and inappropriate gesture was immediate._

_Francis felt his own face heat up slightly. He had never been good with words._

_“I think… I think you did the right thing James. Morale needed to be boosted for the trek we are about to take”_

_Fitzjames let out a bitter chuckle, “All I succeeded in doing was running the men’s morale into the ground to an all time low.”_

_“Not mine.” he whispered replied softly._

_Commander Fitzjames’s eyes softened, moistening soon after and he let out a sad sigh leaning in to rest his forehead against the Irishman’s._

_“I-I.. think I love you James.” he could only whisper softly._

_“I know.” the other replied wearily._

_Now it was Francis’s turn to be surprised as he stared at the commander completely slack jawed._

_Dark eyes veiled with long lashes opened to stare into his blue pools with something primal hidden beneath so much sad._

_“You are such a broken man Francis, I think Sophia did a number on you. It was my wish, more than anything, that you would let me put you back together, to let me show you that you deserve happiness.”_

_Francis licked his lips nervously, eyes intense and considering as he stared at his second._

_Tentatively he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to the silent tear that trickled down the commander’s face._

_“Well then, would you grant me the honour of putting you back together James?” he asked softly._

_Long warm hands cupped his craggy, weathered face and before he knew it velvety lips were pressing against his._

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Francis awoke the next morning it was to the warmth of sunlight shining on his face as it seeped in through the curtains.

He could feel the warmth radiating off of the smaller body that his arm was wrapped around and he couldn’t help but let out a small content hum.

Last night was absolutely wonderful and to be completely honest, he hadn’t slept so well in a long time.

Francis stayed like this for a while, just revelling in the feeling of Jopson’s body held so close to his before letting his eyes join the living.

Oh what sight they were met with.

His back was facing him giving him a clear view of strong back muscles, broad shoulders that led to lean yet muscular biceps that were visible.

The lad must have gotten warm last night because the blankets on his side were thrown off by his feet and even the light blue sheets were pulled down so they just were pooled around his waist.

Crozier let his eyes wander down the shadowed space between the younger man’s shoulder blades, down his spine, down and down until he could see where azure fabric began to obscure his view.

A pleased gleam sparked in his eyes when he noticed how the sheets were slipping just past his tailbone which gave him a shadowed silhouette of the beginning curve of that beautiful arse.

Oh his lieutenant was a beautiful man. He always had been as long as Francis had known him, even as that fresh faced eighteen year old who first came aboard Terror in 1839.

Black hair was sticking up all over the place, that he could clearly tell. A massive case of bed hair if he was to be completely honest. He could hear the former steward snoring softly, so softly he might not have even noticed, if he wasn't paying such close attention that is.

Quietly he shifted his arm, placing his hand against the man’s flank and let his palm run down his body in a tender caress.

The younger man wiggled slightly a hand coming up to swat his away tiredly with an intelligible grumble.

_‘Oh my, how cute.’_

Chuckling to himself, he placed his hand back against his side running down to the man’s hip, the sheets shifting down as flesh slipped beneath them to run a palm down the length of Jopson's thigh, the younger man letting out a sleepy groan and shifting in his sleep.

He was, indeed, very cute.

Smirking softly to himself he brought his hand up to his lips and sucked on a couple digits before lowering his hand back to the soft flesh on Jopson's hip.

Francis kissed the back of his neck sweetly as teased his hand around to knead at a supple cheek.

Jopson let out a barely audible grunt, fingers curling tightly around a handful of pillow.

Crozier used two fingers to spread the round globes slightly so he could prod a wet finger against a tight puckered ring.

The lad seemed to be aware enough to comprehend the action because he rolled over onto his stomach with a small whimper, legs opening for him.

 _'Goodness lad, Edward had you trained so well, didn't he?'_ he mused quietly.

He teased the small ring with a slick finger rubbing against it with the faintest of touches which earned him a shudder and a small moan. “M’ tired…” 

Francis smiled sweetly before easing his finger inside, the passage clenching momentarily before immediately loosening when Jopson inhaled sharply with his face smooshed into the pillow.

Those legs spread for him some more and Francis praised him by kissing one of the dimples above Jopson’s buttocks that he now noticed.

Dimples of Venus? 

A rarity in men from what he’d heard, but oh how fitting for such a man of beauty.

Jopson turned his head to the side and groaned softly, his voice still addled with sleepiness when he spoke "Good morning, sir."

Spearing his finger inside that warm body as far as he could, Francis hummed softly shifting up slightly so he was suspended over the back of Jopson’s thighs to nuzzle black hair tenderly, inhaling the scent that belonged to one man only. 

"Aye, good morning."

His lieutenant breathed a shaky exhale as he added a second digit his hips giving a small little wiggle back against him as he turned his head tiredly and tried to prop himself up on an elbow but slumped back down lazily.

“Shh, Thomas. You lay there and enjoy yourself lad.” 

“Yes, sir.. Of course, sir… tea will be done shortly.. yes dash of whiskey...” the boy mumbled much to Francis’s amusement. 

“You remember after all this time?” Francis mused. 

“Aye Cap’n… port… half-cup o’whiskey… one sugar… teaspoon of cream…” 

Francis laughed softly as he kissed Jopson’s cheek affectionately. “I love you Thomas.” 

“I love you too Edward… O-Oh!” Jopson froze abruptly 

Though it stung slightly, Francis knew not to take it personally the boy was still half-asleep and probably still wild with thoughts from last night.

“O-Oh!” the young man exclaimed suddenly seeming to wake fully as he propped himself up.

“It’s okay Thomas, I know. You wouldn’t have come to me last night if you didn’t care for me the same.” Francis reassured.

“Still… I’m sorry, sir. That was most unkind of me…” 

“You can’t help it lad, you’re still trying to process what happened last night.” 

Jopson inhaled shakily before breathing softly, “I love you, Francis. Please, never doubt that for a moment.” 

Crozier pulled his fingers from the smaller body beneath him and positioned his arousal against it. 

Taking a moment he leaned down to capture Jopson’s lips with his in a passionate and very sensual kiss. 

“Shan’t.” he whispered against soft velvety lips, lips that let out a small gasp against his own when he pressed the tip of hic engorged prick inside him. 

“C-Captain…” 

“Shh… let me take care of you.” Francis whispered soothingly and Jopson was just too inclined to indulge as he settled himself down on the pillows fingers clenching into the striped surface.


	13. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor comes knocking on Francis' front door inquiring about the expedition. Who could it be?
> 
> Prompt for Terror Bingo!!
> 
> Terror Bingo: **Confession**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O o f. Sorry this has taken so long to update!! I hope the wait was worth it!!

* * *

**  
~ October 28th, 1851 ~  
**

* * *

“You seem much happier as of late my friend.” James stated abruptly around the stem of his pipe.

  
Francis snapped to attention and offered the younger man a smile, “Aye, I am. Very much so.”

  
Lady Ann had taken Jopson out for some quality time, they were going to go down to the market and run some other errands.

  
In the meantime, that meant he got to have some one on one time with his old friend.

  
A knock on the front door snapped him from the pleasant conversation and he frowned.

_  
‘Who on Earth…?’_

  
“I'll get it old man, wouldn't want you to break a hip.” 

  
Francis grumbled a curse as he settled back into his chair, something along the lines of, _‘I'll break both your hips.’_

  
James chuckled softly as he opened the door, but his smile turned to a frown of confusion at the sight of the newcomer at the door.

  
He was a tall man, maybe on par with Francis himself. Shaggy, yet neatly combed black hair that was sporting heavy grey streaks, sideburns and a short graying beard. The attire, a worn dress coat that had seen many nights, trousers were new but not the best quality for a gentleman, and the hat on his head was donning scuffs as were his shoes. Common class perhaps? He was watching something from afar, his attention diverted from the door he waited at.

  
Clearing his throat got the man's attention, and he turned to him politely removing his hat.

  
“Good afternoon, sir.” 

  
Those eyes! He's seen them often the past year or so. So unique in color, and he had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping, and instead nodded and offered a smile. “Indeed it is, may I help you my good man?”

  
“Ross! Who is it?” Francis called, but he ignored him.

  
“R-Ross? Sir James Ross?” the man startled slightly.

  
“I… err, yes, and you are?” he asked awkwardly, even though he already had a good idea.

  
The other man stared for a moment before laughing uncomfortably as he held out his hand, “Forgive me, sir, William Jopson. I'm here to speak with Captain Francis Crozier… I must say, it is a pleasure to meet you in person.”

  
He took the man's offered hand and gave the fellow a friendly smile.

  
“You're Thomas’ father? I should have guessed… you two look very much alike, he has your eyes.”

  
Ross couldn’t help but note that William’s smile was just about as bright as his son’s, all that was missing was the dimples.

  
“Yes, we do. Though I’ve always thought he looks more like his mother.”

  
He glanced into the living room when he heard Francis grunt, clearly rising to see what all the fuss was about.

  
Looking back he found that the other man's eyes had become hopeful, “You've seen him? How is he?”

  
“That, I'm afraid, is a conversation that the two of you will need to have together. Ah, Francis! You have a visitor.” he chimed as the Irishman came to stand beside him.

  
Francis peered at the stranger curiously, and James moved aside.

  
“You must be Captain Crozier.” William inquired.

  
The man on his front stoop seemed nervous as he fidgeted with the rim of his hat while he looked at him.

  
“Former Captain. Aye, that would be me.” He confirmed staring the man up and down. His resemblance to Jopson was almost identical, minus greying hair and beard, and a bit taller. Eyes, cheek bones, prominent nose. All the same.

  
“Mr Crozier, my name is-”

  
“William Jopson,” Francis finished for him, his eyes held a sadness within them as he spoke. “,you are Lieutenant Jopson's father.”

  
William blinked in surprise, but he soon nodded. “I am.”

  
An awkward silence filled the air around them and it was a long while before Francis broke it by stepping aside to let the man enter.

  
“It is nice to finally meet you, please come in, I have a feeling we have much to talk about “

  
The other man nodded his thanks as he stepped inside, wiping his feet on the rug before looking around curiously.

  
“I'm afraid he's not here at the moment. He’ll be back later I should think.”

  
“Forgive, Mr Crozier. I hate to have come unannounced.” the man admitted uncomfortably.

  
The Irish Captain offered him a weak but understanding smile.

  
“Please, there be no need for such formalities. You are welcome to call me Francis.” 

  
William returned a friendly albeit nervous smile, “Of course, Francis. Most of my friends call me Bill.” 

  
“Well, Bill, can I get you anything? A cup of tea perhaps?” 

  
“Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

* * *

As the three of them sat at the table in the dining hall, Francis finally asked the question he already knew the answer to, or thought he did.  
  


Sparing a glance at James he cleared his throat. “So what brings you here, Bill?”

  
There was a long pause before finally the man responded, stirring his tea idly as he did so.

  
“I haven't seen nor heard from my son in almost ten months. He stopped writing shortly after he left his sister's home.”

  
Francis’s heart hurt for the man, it had not been fair how Jopson had isolated himself away from his family. 

  
They had wanted to help him of course, it had been so evident, but Thomas had just been too broken, torn to pieces by guilt, loss, memories, pain, and overwhelmed by heartache that caused him so much despair.

  
“You wish to know how he fairs?” James asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

  
“Not exactly, of course that would be welcomed, but that is not the main reason for my visit.” William replied much to their surprise.

  
For Francis though, that surprise melted away quickly to understanding, and he leaned back in his chair folding his hands upon the table.

  
“My son has always been resilient, even as a boy, especially as a boy with what he had to deal with growing up. He is smart, strong, and rational. It is because of this, I do not doubt for a moment that something… unnatural... had happened on that expedition. That and some information that one of his sister’s shared with me of delirious conversations with him, tell me as much. I wish to know what happened out there.” the other man stated frankly, probably the only way there really was to put such a thing.

  
The retired captain pursed his lips into a grim line, sparing a glance at James who looked uneasy but supportive. “I see, well Mr Jopson, if that is what you wish, I will tell you, but I do, however, have a couple conditions.”

  
Bill nodded, “Yes, of course.” 

  
"What I am about to reveal to you, Bill, may very well be difficult to hear, but I cannot emphasize enough, just how crucial it is that you not approach Thomas with this information." 

* * *

"Unfortunately, the expedition had unforeseen and undetected troubles from the beginning. More than half of the provisions we were supplied with, from Goldners, were discovered to be putrid in the late summer of 1847. Most of them were inedible. It was clear to us then why the price on the sheer amount of tins were so shockingly low. It seemed too good to be true, and it was. The lead soldering had gotten into the tin contents and because of this, men were getting sick."

  
A disturbed expression formed upon William's face as he looked down at the tea cup clasped between his hands. 

  
"That makes sense, the Goldner company was charged with several crimes just a couple years ago. Imprisoned if I remember correctly." 

  
Francis offered him a wry smile, rather bitter at the mentioned fact. "Yes. Though, if you were to ask of my thoughts, I would tell you that the bastard deserves the gallows."

  
James cleared his throat awkwardly and Francis sent the man an acknowledging look. He understood there was much to get through before Jopson and Ann returned. 

  
"We also had an impostor aboard _Terror_ , that went unnoticed, speculated and closely watched, but in the end he manipulated the low morale of the crew after we had abandoned the ships in April of 1848 and caused a mutiny by murdering Third Lieutenant John Irving then trying to blame the crime on the natives."

  
William made a face, “An impostor? How does that happen?”

  
“From what we learned later, this man was clearly a seasoned criminal, he killed the real caulker’s mate, Cornelius Hickey, and took his papers. Took on his identity. We never did learn the man’s name, and I for one, could care very little to know it.” Francis explained not bothering to hide the disdain from his voice.

  
“If you don’t mind my asking, Captain Crozier, how was it that this man fueled fire for a mutiny? With a man such as yourself commanding the ship?" 

  
“As a Captain aboard a ship, as Sir Ross can confirm, there are times where one must make difficult choices, even when your morals tell you otherwise. The crew of both _Erebus_ and _Terror_ , knew not of the discoveries of the poisoned tins, some did, namely our lieutenants. With morale low, the last thing needed would be hysteria, the only sustenance that was to be had at the time were the tins as it were.”

  
Francis paused to take a sip of his tea afterward he stared into its steaming surface idly, his thoughts roaming as he tried to think how the best way to tell the man that some of the men had openly committed acts of cannibalism in their desperation. 

  
“Well, it wasn’t but a few months that the tins were getting low. At the time of the event, probably three weeks worth remained.”

  
The startled, horrified expression that came upon William’s face spoke for itself. He understood, or at least had an idea.  
  


“As the ship’s Captain, I did everything in my power to prevent such a thing… but you have to understand, William, men are capable of horrible things when they are desperate to survive, unfathomable things, but that doesn’t make them bad men.” 

* * *

After he'd shared everything of the expedition’s supernatural experience with the _Tuunbaq_ Bill had gone silent, the questions he'd asked about the great bear clearly suggested the man believed the story.

  
That surprised Francis to his own silence, until Bill asked another.

  
“You say it's gone now?” the anger in the father's voice was evident, a deep loathing for a creature that had been part of the trauma inflicted upon his son. 

  
Francis nodded, “Yes, it is dead, though not without several casualties. At least twenty-seven men were killed by that beast, that we know of, including Captain Franklin, several marines, and officers, including one of my lieutenants... and it was not easy to kill. I saw it take countless of musket balls, shotgun blasts, being set ablaze, and the late Captain Fitzjames even hit it directly with a rocket and still there it stood." 

  
The retired Captain's interest was further gained when he found that though William looked absolutely unsettled by the information, nothing in his appearance showed any sign of disbelief. _Curious_.  
  
  
"It was that strong?"  
  
  
Nodding in affirmation, Francis replied his voice grim as he stared into his tea. "Aye, it was, and it be the most fierce and surprisingly intelligent beast I hope to ever encounter."   
  
  
Another silence took over the room, that is until Sir James broke it with a question of his own, "Forgive my curiosity, Mister Jopson, but you seem... unfazed by the mention of this undeniably supernatural being that the men encountered. I sense no skepticism at all."

  
To this William glanced at the two of them nervously, clearly there was something he wasn't sharing, or felt uncomfortable to share with them.  
  
  
Uncomfortable, indeed, for silence once again filled the room with an eerie air about it for several minutes, the man occasionally sipping his tea while his free hand tapped fingers nervously on the table.  
  
  
Maybe he'd crossed a line, "Forgive me, I meant not to upset you. It is just surprising that you take this information with such ease. I admit, though I've known Captain Crozier for a long time and he is a dear friend, it took me a while to believe such a thing."   
  
  
Francis' eyes wandered to look at James with a raised eyebrow. "You seemed to believe me upfront, was that not the case?" 

  
The younger man let out an abashed laugh, "Forgive me, old friend, but if someone told you before the expedition of a mythical bear creature, would you believe such a thing?"   
  
  
"No, no I suppose not. Point taken." the Irishman said with a roll of his eyes.

  
"My daughter, Mary, is a spiritualist." Bill admitted abruptly, his voice though soft clearly showed his discomfort with the given information.  
  


* * *

“I shall have to pester James to have us come visit more often, this was such a treat Thomas.” Ann stated with a warm smile as they stepped up to the front door of the home the former lieutenant shared with her husband's closest friend.   
  


Thomas beamed brightly, “I agree, perhaps I can persuade Francis to take us to visit you for a change.“

  
Both of them giggled at the statement and Thomas opened the door, stepping aside and holding it open for her to enter. 

  
“Thank you.” the woman said, still giggling as she walked through the entryway. 

  
Jopson followed with a genuine smile with prominent dimples on display. 

  
However, even though the facial indents remained, defined even, the lighted joy in his eyes suddenly vanished when he caught sight of the man sitting in one of the chairs at Francis’s dining table in the next room. 

  
An overwhelming feeling of dread filled him and he stared mouth agape in a state of muted terror. 

_  
'What is he doing here?!'_

  
His blood began pumping loudly in his ears so loud that he wavered on his feet as a wave of dizziness hit him like the strongest of gale winds. He staggered sideways having to grab hold of a cabinet to straighten himself. 

* * *

Francis felt an immense guilt, swelling cruelly in his chest as he stared into William's face, lips pursed into a grim line, eyebrows narrowed, staring down at the table in thought. Pale eyes very much like his son's appeared troubled but more so very, very sad.   
  


What he'd explained to the younger man, he knew, was not in any way his to share.   
  


The details, he was positive, would help William understand why his son was the way he was, and give him a chance to learn a way to approach so that he could help him.   
  


It was very clear to him, however, that Thomas would never want to share said details and it was for this reason that he had told all.   
  


“I always had a feeling that Thomas was different… he never told tale of a lass even once. Very withdrawn and quiet about his personal life.”   
  


“Aye. I wouldn't have known about their relationship myself, but he voiced it to me upon our return voyage on _Enterprise_.”   
  
  
Bill nodded his expression sympathetic but also pained. “A broken heart then…”  
  
  
"Very, Lieutenant Jopson and Lieutenant Little were very much in love. He died shortly before I found Thomas, he believes only a couple days."  
  
  
"Poor boy, I wish he had told me." Bill said softly. 

  
"There is… a lot of grief and guilt on your son's consciousness Bill."

  
William peered up at him with sad eyes, "Survivor's guilt, of course."

  
A heavy pause filled the air until finally James cleared his throat awkwardly and stood, walking to the large bay window to idly peer outside. 

  
"Something else happened?" Bill inquired with a hesitancy. 

  
"Aye, as I said before, men will do unthinkable things when they are desperate to survive."

  
The other man visibly paled, all color draining from his face as a look of horror crossed his features but slowly, ever so slowly, it morphed into one of sympathy, and a deep pain from the revelation of his son’s trauma. 

  
All three shared a moment of unsettled silence, one man not knowing quite what to say even though he’d heard the story from his friend, another too mortified by the whole tale, and the last trying to find the correct words to say.

  
“Ye also must understand, Mr Jopson, that your son was in a serious state when I found him. Blinded by the snow, struck with advanced stages of scurvy, starving and only sustaining himself on the bodies beside him, crippled by weakness, hallucinating, and damn near frozen. He confessed to me that he didn’t realize the body he’d cut into was--”   
  
“Don’t!” came a desperate yelp from the room next door, the voice immediately had Francis going pale and his head snapping to the left where he could see Jopson bracing himself against one of the cabinets, body trembling and tears trickling down his face with a look of absolute betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! We all knew this was coming sooner or later!! 
> 
> P.S. There is no evidence that ANY of William and Sarah Jopson's children were Spiritualists to my knowledge.
> 
> P. S. I am aware that William Jopson died in 1850. This is fiction.

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to check out the spinoff series that will focus on events that led up to the return to England. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/series/1445107
> 
> Artwork provided by @FITZY_FITZJAMES


End file.
